Restoration
by Siu Jerk Jai
Summary: KotOR. A year after the Star Forge mission, Carth gets some Jedi help on the Telos Restoration Project.
1. Chapter 1

_Many thanks to my husband and Prisoner 24601 for their extremely helpful comments and suggestions_ _on this story_.

* * *

Carth tried not to pace in front of the shuttle bay doors or fidget with his uniform jacket. Somehow, no matter how many bars of rank he earned, the Jedi still made him feel like he should stand up straight and watch his language. 

He was grateful the Council had sent someone to help with the Restoration Project. He probably would have been even more grateful if he'd _asked_ for help first. Or at all. Or if he knew who exactly it was they were sending. It wouldn't be Revan; she had gone off to work out her guilt somewhere beyond the Outer Rim. And no matter how well they worked together or how much he considered her a friend, Revan being on Telos just wouldn't have seemed right.

But at least if Revan was coming Carth wouldn't be smoothing the fabric of his uniform for the hundredth time and racking his brain for small talk. For a group of sentients that were supposed to be one with all life, the Jedi seemed to be masters of awkward silence. Carth would have preferred dealing with his appointment calendar or the countless invoices and requisition requests that currently buried his desk. Hell, he would have taken dealing with the station's Czerka representative over this, and that was saying something.

Despite himself, Carth did straighten to attention as the doors hissed open. A steady stream of sents poured into the meeting area. He recognized a few jumpsuited workers from the surface, all meeting the spouses and children they'd been forced to leave behind on whatever planets had offered refuge to the Telosian survivors. For the past year, the station had barely kept operational, with only bare-bones living quarters for the workers. But now it was finally getting livable—med facilities, schools, the things it took to bring families home to Telos.

Carth watched a young man kiss his newly arrived wife, then scoop their son up into the air. The boy looked maybe four or five and he laughed as his father set him on his shoulders. If Carth felt a twinge of loss on viewing the scene, if it reminded him that his own son was lightyears away on Coruscant, well, that was just part of the job.

As the stream of passengers dwindled to a trickle, a robed figure with a pack over one shoulder stepped through the door. The hood was up and the figure looking away from him, but by the build, Carth guessed it was a woman. He had just stepped toward her when she turned to face him as if he'd called her name. Slim hands reached up and pushed the hood back, and as blue eyes found him, Carth felt his polite diplomat smile replaced by one much more sincere.

If they _had _asked him who they should send, Bastila Shan would have been at the top of the list. She was hard-working, talented. Maybe he'd found her a bit stiff when they first met, but after months spent with her in the cockpit of the _Ebon Hawk_, he'd gotten to see the smart, dedicated woman under the Jedi exterior. She'd be perfect for the project.

She approached him and offered a small smile of her own. "Carth. It is good to see you."

"Bastila," he said, still smiling. "It's a relief to see you." More than a relief.

She raised an eyebrow, and his smile widened at the familiar expression. "Relief?"

His smile turned to a rueful grin. "I'm not the best there is at the getting-to-know-you chitchat. So a Jedi I already know—and know I can work with—makes everything a whole lot easier."

Bastila just continued to look up at him with that small smile, though the longer he looked at it, the more forced it seemed. He felt his own smile slip; he wondered if he'd said something to offend her.

"Though of course, I, uh… I would have been happy to work with any of the Jedi."

She nodded. "Of course."

So much for hoping to avoid awkward silences. Concern edged out relief. She looked tired, and her face was thinner than he remembered. Paler, too. He'd never thought of Jedi as getting travel fatigue, but he supposed they were only human. The human ones anyway.

He gestured to her pack. "Here, let me take that. You've been traveling all day."

Murmuring her thanks, she slid the pack off her shoulder and placed the strap in his offered hand. He hoisted it over his own shoulder and tried to muster up a bright smile again.

"All right, so… shall we head out?"

She nodded, her head slightly bowed, and Carth took that as his cue to lead the way to the short-range residential shuttles. They passed small areas of waiting passengers in silence, Carth glancing over at Bastila every few bay gates.

"Admiral!" he suddenly heard a familiar voice call.

Carth turned to see Tav, the worker who lived in the apartment next to his. Tav had his arm around the shoulders of a short, blonde woman, and a little girl no older than six was hanging from his other hand. Carth smiled to see the wide, proud grin on the young man's face.

"Merel, this is my neighbor—well, _our _neighbor, Admiral Onasi."

"Finally brought the family out, huh, Tav?" Tav worked the night shift, so Carth rarely saw him outside of a few brief exchanges as he headed home and Tav headed out. But all of those conversations had centered around his wife and little girl, complete with holos.

Tav's wide grin stretched even wider. "Yes, sir. About time, too."

"You got that right," Carth agreed good-naturedly. He waved down at the little girl who stared wide-eyed at him from behind her father's leg, then gestured toward Bastila. "This is Jedi Knight Bastila Shan. She's going to be helping us out around here."

Bastila nodded politely to the couple. Tav's eyes, which had been fixed on his wife and daughter, slid to the robed figure and widened slightly. "How… how do you do?" he said slowly. Then he offered an awkward little bow.

"Very well," Bastila said, her back a little stiff and her chin a little high. "Thank you."

Tav and his wife continued to stare at her, nearly as wide-eyed as their daughter. Carth had almost forgotten what a daunting first impression Bastila made. He'd been a bit tongue-tied himself when confronted on the _Endar Spire_ by a very formal Jedi who was not only crucial to the war effort but was also young and gorgeous.

Carth cleared his throat as the silence stretched a little too long. "Did you put in a requisition to be moved down to family housing?" he asked Tav.

Tav tore wide eyes from Bastila's robes and nodded. "Put it in last week, so we'll see." His stance relaxed a bit as he hugged his wife tighter to his side. "But we can make due with close quarters for a while." Merel smiled and rested her head against her husband's shoulder.

"You might not have to," Carth said. "I got word just the other day that the new family module is almost up and running. Could be any day now, and there's still not so many family's that it'll fill right away. I'd say you've got a good shot."

"That's great news, Admiral!"

Merel was looking at Carth curiously. When he turned to her, she smiled. "Admiral, are you by any chance related to a Morgana Onasi? She was a surgeon at the Northwest Medical Complex?"

Carth felt Bastila's eyes on him, and his smile froze into an awkward mask. "You… you were a patient of Morgana's?"

The woman nodded enthusiastically. "A few years before the bombing, I was in a speeder accident. She assisted in the surgery. Helped to save my leg." The woman patted her right thigh and smiled at him brightly. "So you do know her?"

He looked away from her eager eyes and glanced at the shuttle arrival board, hoping the gesture looked natural. "Morgana was my wife. She didn't survive the bombardment." There was a long silence, and he worked up the courage to face them again, knowing the stricken and guilty faces that would meet his. He avoided Bastila's eyes and tried to force out another friendly smile when he saw Merel's mouth working silently, trying desperately to find appropriate words.

This time it was Bastila who cut a long silence short. "You must be anxious to get settled in after your journey," she said quietly.

Merel nodded. "Tav, let's… let's go get the bags. Nice to meet you both," she said with a small wave. They moved away, Merel holding tightly to their daughter's hand and Tav with his arm around his wife. Merel glanced back at Carth once, then leaned close to her husband's ear. Carth didn't hear much, but he thought he caught the words "that poor man."

He let out a breath and turned to Bastila. "Thanks," he muttered.

She just nodded. "Shall we continue on?"

Carth led the way forward and soon they came to the other end of the shuttle docking area and joined another line of jumpsuited workers and families.

"It's just a short shuttle hop to the residential modules," Carth said, trying to regain a little of his former energy. "We'll be there before you know it."

The shuttle ride to the residential module dampened his enthusiasm further; it was awkward, uncomfortable, and thankfully short. The walk to Residential Module 076 was pretty much the same. Every time he tried to engage in friendly conversation, he found himself shot down. Juhani and Jolee were well to her knowledge. Yes, she had seen Dustil in the Temple, but no, she had not spoken to him. No, she had not recently spoken to Canderous or Mission. She nodded at the appropriate times during his recounting of the Twi'lek's adventures on Kashyyyk, but she rarely met his eyes and never smiled. He was relieved when they found themselves in front of apartment C in the east section.

"Here it is," he said with a brightness he did not feel. He pulled the passcard out of his pocket and slid it into the door lock.

The door slid back to reveal a simple living space. A few drab chairs sat around a small table, and a kitchen area was visible off to one side. Carth set Bastila's pack on the carpet and gestured for her to enter.

"Bedroom's there," he said, pointing. "Refresher's there."

She nodded absently. "I assume you'd like to schedule a briefing for this evening?"

Carth shook his head. "With you getting in so late, I figured you'd want to just spend some time settling in."

It could have been his imagination, but he thought she looked slightly disappointed. "Tomorrow then?"

"Actually," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "tomorrow is an off day. Chodo and I try to schedule at least one every weekly rotation so nobody gets burned out."

"Chodo?"

"Chodo Nabat. He's the chief of the Ithorians working here to restore the plant and animal life. I know he's anxious to meet with you."

She nodded. "Perhaps he would wish to arrange a meeting tomorrow then."

Carth shook his head again. "His herd has a weekly spiritual retreat to the surface on off days. Not that you, uh… wouldn't be welcome or anything, but during the service, Chodo just gets very focused on…" He trailed off, uncertain how to describe the Ithorian ritual. Chodo invited Carth often and sometimes he went, but he had his own spiritual rituals for the Telosian surface.

Bastila's shoulders had slumped again. "I see."

"Hey," he said, squeezing her shoulder. "Don't worry. There's plenty of work to go around. But for the next day or so, you can just relax and get used to how things work around here."

"Of course," she said, looking away from him.

Carth stifled a sigh and removed his hand. "The apartment's stocked with some basic food and supplies, so you don't have to go out tonight, but if you want anything else…" He pulled another card from his pocket and handed it to her along with the passcard. "That's your ration card. It basically passes for a paycheck around here."

Bastila turned it over in her hand, inspecting it. "The workers aren't paid in credits?"

Carth tried not to snort. "We barely have enough funding to stay in orbit. You wouldn't believe what we have to pay for fuel. So most of the workers are paid from the supplies we're able to get donated or on the cheap. Most of the workers aren't looking for much more than that. A lot of them are Telosian, hoping to someday rebuild their homes. Others are refugees from other planets, just glad to have a place to stay, food to eat, and medical care and schools for their kids."

"You're able to provide all of those services?" Bastila asked.

Carth nodded. "Most of the teachers and doctors are volunteers. A lot of ed and med students, but they're good kids."

She smiled at him then, the closest she'd come to a genuine smile. "That's very impressive, Carth."

The familiar pride was soon joined by the familiar worry. "Yeah," he sighed. "But I really want to start providing more credits." He frowned. "We're going to have to if we're going to compete with Czerka."

Bastila's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Czerka has a presence here?"

"Where don't they have a presence?" Carth clipped bitterly. "The Senate gave them permission to operate a privately funded restoration zone. Kind of an experiment, I guess."

"And you fear Czerka may be able to offer better compensation than the Republic project?"

Carth snorted. "I _know_ they can offer better compensation than we can."

She nodded. "Perhaps monetarily, but if the Czerka representatives we met on Tatooine and Kashyyyk are any indication, I don't believe you will have any trouble inspiring greater loyalty among your workers."

He felt a warm, satisfied smile spread across his face at her praise. "That's the hope. And thanks. It's nice to get a vote of confidence once in a while. We don't get many up here."

She smiled back, and he thought that maybe they'd broken through the awkwardness of their reunion. But the thaw was short-lived. Her smile slipped, and she lapsed into silence again.

Carth cleared his throat. "Well, I'll… I'll let you settle in." He turned to the control panel mounted next to the door. "You should have a map of the station here. There's the usual—cantina, med center, a few shops. I'm actually assigned to this module as well, apartment B in the west section." He marked it on the map and then entered in his commlink code. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

When he turned around, she was already staring out the viewport at the planet below. "Thank you, Carth. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Okay. I'll just… be on my way then."

He let himself out, and as the door slid shut behind him, he took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders to release the tension knotted there. Bastila wasn't remotely like he remembered. She wasn't even the brash, uptight Jedi from the _Spire_. He started back toward his apartment, adding Bastila to the mental list of worries that always seemed to hover in the back of his mind.

* * *

As the door to his own apartment slid back, Carth sighed. Although he had an office in one of the administrative modules, the paperwork necessary for running a project of this size always seemed to spill over into his home. Datapads littered the table in the center of the room, and he could already see the blinking red light of his comm. Before he dove into all that, though, he resolutely turned his back on the light, went to the kitchen, and grabbed a cold beer. He opened it and took a long swallow. It wasn't the best beer, but it was the cheapest they were able to import to the station and it got the job done. 

He sauntered back out into the living room, the beer still clutched in one hand, the other hand undoing the fasteners on his uniform jacket. He dropped down heavily into the chair in front of the comm, took another sip, then hit the display button. A long list of new communications scrolled across the screen, nearly ever single one flashing "Urgent" or "Priority" at him. He kept the beer handy as he perused the list, looking to see if there was anything that needed his attention and if most of it could wait until tomorrow. Or the next day. Preferably the next day.

One popped out at him, ironically one of the few not in flashing red letters. It was a simple text message, dated that morning, from the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. He grinned. He knew Dustil was busy with his training, but he still bugged him to write home whenever he got the chance. Carth viewed it as his prerogative as a parent.

He tapped the key to open the message, and disappointment slumped his shoulders.

_Master Vandar Tokare requests that you confirm the safe arrival of the Jedi assigned to the Telos Restoration Project_. A Coruscant code number appeared across the bottom.

Carth sighed and set the beer on the table. Of course they'd want to know she arrived safely. He would have asked the same if he sent someone under his command to a new assignment. He checked to make sure they were in transmission range, then dialed in the code. "Connecting" blinked on the screen. At the last second before the comm went through, he grabbed the bottle of beer and put it on the floor under the table, out of view of the transmitter. The Jedi didn't seem to have any restrictions on alcohol, but he'd feel odd displaying the bottle in front of a Padawan.

He was even more grateful he'd moved it when Master Vandar himself appeared on the screen.

"Master Vandar," he said, frowning in surprise. "I'm sorry. I, uh… didn't mean to disturb you. I assumed the number I had went to the comm room at the Temple."

The diminutive Master nodded. "Admiral Onasi. I left my personal comm code because there is a matter I wish to discuss with you. I assume that Bastila has arrived on station by this time?"

Carth nodded. "Yes, sir. She's settling into her new quarters right now."

"And have you seen her yourself, Admiral?"

Carth frowned, unsure what the Jedi was asking. "Yes. I met her at the shuttle."

The Master nodded as if it was the answer he had expected. His gaze seemed to become more pointed. "And do you have any observations as to Bastila's manner?"

Carth realized his fingers were tapping a staccato rhythm on the tabletop, and he forced his hand still. "She seems… different." When Master Vandar remained silent, he sighed and elaborated. "Subdued somehow. Like she's… I don't know… like she's lost focus."

The Jedi nodded. "A very astute observation, Admiral. It is this change that concerns me, and it is this change that prompted me to send Bastila to Telos."

Carth's frown deepened. The restoration wasn't meant to be a punishment for wayward Jedi. The Jedi weren't the ones with a debt to repay on Telos. "You wanted her away from the Temple?"

"Yes. But not in the way you may be thinking." The Master looked down at his own desk, lightyears away on Coruscant. "I believe we have kept Bastila here at the Temple for too long." His eyes redirected to the screen. "After the Star Forge, the Council assigned her a strict regimen of meditation, hoping to clear her mind of the emotions that led to her fall. I fear it has had much the opposite effect."

"I'm still not sure I understand."

"Meditation has turned to brooding for young Bastila. She has become withdrawn and distant. She continues to blame herself for that which deserves understanding and compassion."

Carth shook his head. "But she came back to the light. She used her Battle Meditation… she helped the Republic destroy the Star Forge."

Master Vandar nodded sadly. "It is her actions before that time that occupy her mind."

"But after everything Malak did to her, she can't… I mean…" Carth shook his head stubbornly again. "I don't know exactly what happened, but if what Revan felt was _half_ of what Malak was doing to Bastila…" He trailed off, barely suppressing a chill. His memories of the time after the _Leviathan_ were all too clear—Revan's screams cutting through his own misery and confusion as Jolee and Juhani worked to dampen the bond.

"Bastila is her own harshest judge," Master Vandar declared. "I believe that in her heart she has forgiven even Malak, but she has found no room in her heart to forgive herself." The Master sighed, and Carth found himself wondering exactly how old the wrinkled Jedi was. "And I believe the Force bond she shares with Revan has worsened the situation."

"Surely Revan doesn't blame Bastila?" Carth couldn't imagine it. Over the course of the Star Forge mission, probably because of the bond, the two women had become like sisters—Bastila anchoring Revan and helping her find her balance in the Force as she called it, and Revan helping thaw Bastila's icy exterior.

"Quite the opposite. Revan spent much of the past year attempting to pull Bastila out from her withdrawal. But in time, Revan's own demons began to interfere." The Master raised his bushy eyebrows at Carth. "Revan told you she was leaving?"

Carth nodded. There was a late-night comm call, Revan with a hunted, haunted look as she asked him to keep the Republic strong. He'd tried to reason with her, to say that if there really was a Sith threat looming, then they should round up the crew and find a way to fight it together. But she'd been adamant, and in the end, what could he do? They were friends, nothing more. If he'd ever thought he might have had more influence with her… well, that time ended after the _Leviathan_, when even harmless flirting started to seem not so harmless. So he'd wished her good luck and a safe journey and meant every word. He felt a twinge of guilt that in his preoccupation with running the station, he'd barely spared her a thought since.

If Master Vandar suspected any of Carth's thoughts on the matter, he didn't say so. He merely nodded. "The bond is stretched thin, perhaps too thin to even truly be called a bond any longer. Bastila is alone in her own mind for the first time in more than two years. A situation that is both a blessing and a curse."

"So what can I do, Master Vandar? All of this is a little over my head."

"You underestimate yourself, Admiral Onasi. Our hope in sending Bastila to Telos is that in healing the wounded planet she might find some peace to heal her wounded spirit. Perhaps a familiar face will remind her that those who call her friend hold no grudges and cast no blame."

"Of course I don't blame her!" Carth exclaimed. "That's ridiculous."

A slight smile turned up one corner of Master Vandar's mouth. "Then I hope you will tell her so." The smile faded. "Involve her in your good work, Admiral, but we ask that you help remind her that this assignment is not a sentence meant to punish, but an opportunity to re-energize and replenish."

Maybe Carth had been working too hard because exhaustion was making him buzz off half a beer. He cocked an eyebrow at the screen. "You're asking me to show her a good time?"

The Jedi's expression remained serene, but Carth thought he saw a glint of amusement in the old Master's eyes. "I am asking you to remind her that her life did not end with her fall and that she still has much to contribute."

Carth nodded slowly. "I'll do what I can, Master Vandar."

"That is all I ask, Admiral."


	2. Chapter 2

The next afternoon, Carth stood outside Bastila's door, waiting for an answer to the door chime and wondering if she'd gone out. Part of him hoped so. Not that he didn't want to see her, but if she was out exploring the station, maybe she wasn't as isolated as Master Vandar had implied.

But the door slid back, and Bastila stood before him in simple brown robes. Her hair was different, too. He hadn't noticed it yesterday, but instead of the braids and pigtails he remembered, her brown hair was pulled back simply. He thought he remembered her wearing makeup sometimes, too. Not that she wasn't a beautiful woman without it. She just looked less… polished. It might have even been a nice change if Carth didn't have a sneaking suspicion that it was more out of apathy than anything else.

Blue eyes regarded him questioningly, and he realized he hadn't said anything. "Uh, hi. I thought we…" He frowned. In the space of five words, her expression had taken on that distant look again. "I didn't catch you at a bad time or anything, did I?"

She shook her head. "No. No, of course not. I was just… meditating."

Meditating. Carth was starting to understand what Master Vandar had said. "Well, I thought maybe we should have a briefing today after all."

Her eyes seemed to snap back from wherever they were, and she even gave a small smile. "Of course. I'm anxious to get started."

That much was obvious. "Well, great," Carth said with an enthusiasm he didn't entirely feel. He stepped back and swept one arm toward the shuttles. "Shall we?"

She nodded, then turned and walked to the table in the center of the room, gathering a datapad and her lightsaber. She slipped the datapad into her pocket and clipped the lightsaber to her belt. She joined him in the corridor, and the door to her apartment slid closed behind her.

"We're headed to your office?" she asked as they started off.

Carth shook his head. "I like to go down to the surface on off days—see the progress that's been made, remind myself why we're all working so hard." He smiled ruefully. "I came to help with the restoration and I spend most of the time in my office buried in paperwork."

"Your efforts are invaluable to the project, Carth," she murmured politely.

"I know. I just…" He turned to grin at her. "I guess I was hoping to get my hands dirty, you know? I'm not used to riding a desk."

"Yes," she said, a hint of bitterness twisting her voice. "It is not a… comfortable feeling."

He cleared his throat and glanced at her out of corner of his eye. "Is this your first assignment since…?" He trailed off uncertainly.

"Yes," she replied softly. "The Masters… I was not ready before now."

Carth wasn't sure she _was_ ready now. Bastila was a hard worker and very dedicated, and he had no doubt she'd bring intelligence and commitment to the restoration, but he didn't know how to help a Jedi. Especially not a Jedi who seemed as lost and hurting as Bastila was.

Another glance at her brought a surge of guilt. She wasn't just a Jedi; she was his friend. He of all people should be willing to offer a hand to someone drowning in guilt and regret.

"Well, it'll be great having you around," he said brightly. "I'm glad you're here."

It wasn't just kindness, he realized. Despite his reservations, a big part of him _was_ glad to see her. The part that prompted him to start down the wrong hallway when he left his office. The part that steered him toward the larger apartment he'd shared with Dustil. The part that still expected to find someone else's clothes left in the laundry unit or someone else's dirty dishes piled in the sink.

_Face it, old man. You're lonely_.

Lonely like he'd been before the Star Forge mission. Before he'd met the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_. Before those months spent in the cockpit with Bastila. She'd never pushed him like Revan. She'd just been there, a calm, quiet presence, dedicated to the mission, dedicated to the Republic. He'd taken strength from her focus and her certainty. Until Saul. Until Malak.

His own thoughts lapsed into brooding, and they walked in silence to the shuttle bay. He led her down to the far end, to the shuttles reserved for military and TSF use. The serious-faced young lieutenant behind the desk saluted Carth smartly.

"What can I do for you, Admiral?"

"We're looking to take a shuttle down to the surface, if you've got one available."

The lieutenant nodded. "If you don't mind sharing, I've got one leaving within the hour."

Carth frowned. He didn't know anyone else besides the Ithorians who were authorized to explore the surface without being part of a squad, and the Ithorians had their own transport. "Who's taking the shuttle, Lieutenant?"

The man consulted his console. "The name listed is… Bao-Dur. Iridonian tech." The lieutenant looked back up at Carth. "He's not listed as having any access restriction."

Carth shook his head. "No, no, you're right. I just forgot." He grinned at the young man. "Age will do that to you."

The young man returned his gaze with a stoic expression. "Yes, sir."

Carth sighed. Some of the new recruits needed to loosen up a little. "That'll be fine, Lieutenant. Which bay is he leaving from?"

"Fleet Bay A, sir."

"Thanks." Carth turned to Bastila and gestured for her to follow him.

They walked down to the indicated bay and found the shuttle. The cargo hold doors stood open, and various containers of mechanical gadgets stood piled inside, but there was no sign of the Zabrak mechanic. Carth led Bastila on a quick loop around the shuttle and saw the tech in the back corner of the bay digging through a larger container of supplies. His ubiquitous remote droid circled around his head lazily.

"Bastila Shan," Carth said when they arrived at the tech's location, "meet Bao-Dur." The Zabrak turned and offered Bastila a nod. "He's the tech that created the force fields that shield the restoration zones. There wouldn't _be_ a Restoration Project without him." Carth turned to Bao-Dur. "Mind giving us a lift to the surface?"

"You can give me a lift, Admiral. I'm not much of a pilot." Carth was pretty sure that meant Bao-Dur didn't mind having the extra company. Sometimes it was tough to tell. The mechanic's voice was always slow and measured, even when he had other techs all over him asking for assistance on the technical details of the shields. "I planned to stay tonight anyway. You can bring the shuttle back, and I'll get a ride with one of the work crews tomorrow."

"Sounds good. You need a hand loading any cargo?"

Bao-Dur glanced around and nodded toward two large shipping containers. "I was waiting for a cargo droid, but the two of us may be able to manage them."

"You keep doing what you're doing. Bastila and I can get them."

Bao-Dur turned to Bastila and looked over her slim figure. Carth couldn't count all the male sents he'd seen doing the exact same thing, some more obviously than others, but there was not a hint of expression—either lewd or curious—on the Zabrak's face. He simply nodded.

Carth glanced at Bastila, who nodded and followed him to one of the containers. Carth bent his knees and grabbed the low handle on the box. "You ready?"

Bastila stood back, appraising the containers. "It's all right, Carth. I can get them."

Carth straightened up, grinning. "Have at it then."

She gazed at the containers a moment longer, then lifted her hands in a simple gesture. The unwieldy containers rose gracefully a few centimeters into the air, then floated toward the shuttle. Carth turned to Bao-Dur, still grinning, but the mechanic watched the operation without surprise or even any curiosity, his eyes slightly distant. Carth tried not to feel a little disappointed.

He followed Bastila and the containers into the shuttle, where the boxes landed lightly among the others. She made her way through the cargo to the front of the shuttle where two seats occupied the space in front of the instrument panel. She turned to face him, a question in her eyes.

"No problem," he said. He turned to the space behind the pilot's seat and pulled a small jump seat out from the wall panel. "Not much, I know," he said, straightening, "but it's a short ride."

"That will be fine," she said.

She sat, and he bent down to help her strap in. He pulled the harness out of the bulkhead, then realized that it would go right across her chest and into a buckle beside her hip. He hesitated for a moment, awkwardly holding the harness and eyeing where it should go, until she looked up at him.

"Uh… here," he said, offering her the strap. "It buckles in just, uh… right there."

He moved up to the pilot's seat and began going through the take-off prep menus, trying to convince himself that he had not just been caught ogling Bastila Shan's breasts and so there was no need for the blush slowly working its way up his neck.

"Is it common for the workers to spend the night on the surface?" Bastila asked from behind him.

"Actually it's against the rules," Carth said, glad for a safe subject of discussion and the distraction of the shuttle's controls. "But Bao-Dur kind of makes his own rules, and as far as I'm concerned, he has unrestricted access to the surface. I meant what I said about there being no project without him. He's a mechanical genius, and we're lucky to have him."

Silence filled the shuttle; Carth was almost certain it was only embarrassed silence on his part. It was finally broken by the sound of the cargo doors closing a few minutes later. Bao-Dur appeared from out behind the cargo containers and dropped into the copilot's seat. "Ready when you are, Admiral." He glanced at Carth from the corner of his eye. "Try not to frighten the traffic controllers this time."

Carth grinned. "Gotta keep the troops on their toes." His hands keyed in the start-up codes almost without thought. "Let's get this bucket of bolts in the air."

He commed shuttle control, and they gave him immediate clearance to leave. Rank had its privileges. That, and there was probably no one else heading down to the surface today. They sailed out the bay doors—just close enough to the control tower to see the whites of the controllers' widened eyes—and into the dark of space. He was just starting to enjoy himself when he had to start the landing cycle. His hands twitched on the controls, and he stifled a sigh. With a last wistful look at the stars around them, he prepared to drop into atmosphere.

They touched down on a small landing platform surrounded by waves of tall grass. Strong sunlight filtered down through thin wisps of white clouds, and the nearby fields gleamed golden. A smile of pride and satisfaction broke across his face. He turned to Bao-Dur, but the mechanic was staring down at the telemetry readings coming through on the shields and frowning at his remote droid's beeps. Carth unhooked his safety harness and twisted in his seat to catch Bastila's expression. She gazed out the viewscreen, but if he was any judge, she wasn't really seeing the scene before her.

"Come on, Bastila," he said, pushing away his disappointment at her lack of reaction. "I'll show you around."

She seemed to shake herself and looked up at him with a slightly apologetic smile.

"Feel free to take the speeder, Admiral," Bao-Dur said, gesturing through the viewscreen at the lone transport near the landing pad.

Carth glanced again at the bright sunshine. "Nah. I think we'll walk."

* * *

Carth led Bastila through the twists and turns of the bluffs, wading through knee-high grasses. He didn't understand most of the biological and geological processes involved in rebuilding a destroyed planet—well, none of the processes really—but he could appreciate the effects. The scientists sometimes came to him looking for approval on this or that piece of outrageously expensive equipment. He'd listen politely, nodding at what he hoped were appropriate intervals, and then when they finished, he'd direct them to the scientific advisory panel appointed by the Senate.

It was much the same when Chodo came to him, though that was more rare. Spending time with a few Jedi didn't mean he understood the Ithorian's long sermons on the will of the Force and balance and life energy and what-not, but it did mean he approved almost anything Chodo asked for. Which thankfully wasn't much.

Whenever he started to worry too much about the details of the mountains of paperwork, he forced himself to take the time to go down to the surface, to breathe in air that hadn't been recycled through a station's ventilators a hundred times and run a hand over the jagged stone of the cliffs. He forced himself to face the new surface and remember why he was here.

He glanced away from the landscape and over at Bastila, feeling a slight twinge of guilt that he'd been neglecting his tour guide duties while lost in his own thoughts. But she was staring down at the waves of grass as they parted around her shins. He resolved to try harder to keep her from lapsing into brooding.

"We're almost there," he said. "I hope you don't mind the walk."

Bastila jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, but then turned to him with a small shake of her head. "No. It's quite refreshing." In the bright sunlight, the faint circles under her eyes were even more visible. "Refreshed" was not a word he would have used to describe her.

But he glanced up at the bluff faces around them and realized that they were really almost there. He quickened his pace. The spot was far off the beaten path, and most of the Senators from the Planetary Restoration Committee weren't exactly up for wading uphill through heavy undergrowth, so Carth rarely got the chance to show it off. For someone who didn't have old memories of the place—and even for someone who did—the view was something to see. He optimistically told himself that this would snap Bastila out of her reverie if anything could.

They came to a turning in the path and suddenly the bluffs dropped away, revealing a wide open expanse of grass. A few hundred yards in the distance, the grasses faded into a thin stretch of white sand. The lake beyond rippled a brilliant blue.

Carth turned to Bastila and was gratified by the small smile that lifted her lips. It was softer than the pinched expressions he'd seen her force out so far. Given her current state, he put that smile about equivalent with a gasp of pleasure from anyone else. He found himself grinning.

"Not bad, huh?"

Bastila turned to him with something like the old light in her blue eyes. "It's lovely, Carth. Truly."

He nodded and offered her his arm as they stepped forward off the rocky path and onto the sandier, more uneven soil. He promptly stumbled as his foot sank into a particularly soft section of sand, and they would have fallen if not for her grace. His laugh echoed out across the open water.

"Okay, next time, I take _your_ arm," he said, still chuckling.

"Agreed." She laughed softly. It was a quiet, little sound, but Carth felt a strong sense of satisfaction. Maybe Master Vandar was right. Maybe she needed this much more than hours locked away in her Temple quarters. Maybe Carth could offer her something that the Masters couldn't.

Still grinning, he led her down to the shore. The day was perfect. Warm with a slight breeze and sunlight dancing across the dappled surface of the water. The only thing that marred the idyllic scene was the unnatural quiet. It wasn't just the fact that on a day like this, the beach would have been packed with families and tourists. There was no animal noise, no chirping of birds, just the faintest buzz of insects and even that was subdued. Apparently the reintroduction of animal life was a much more complicated, intense process than rebuilding the bluffs or even bringing back the plant life. The Ithorians and the scientists were just starting an extensive, multiyear study of the fauna that would have the best chances of thriving on the new Telos. It would be years before the process of actually bringing in animals started, and Carth felt the familiar knot of tension that tightened his gut whenever he thought about it. _That_ would make or break the project, and the thought that all their hard work up until this point could be scrapped made the grin slip from his face. Despite his promise to himself, he and Bastila fell into silence as they approached the water's edge.

When they cleared the grassline, he forced himself to clear his mind of distant worries and focus on the concern at hand. Bastila's small smile had faded, but she still seemed slightly less stiff than she had on station.

"If you ever need to remind yourself why you're here," he said to here, "I highly recommend this place."

She nodded. "I had no idea your efforts had already come so far."

"Well, to be honest, this was one of the very first sites to begin restoration, so it's had the most work done. Most of the other RZs aren't quite so lush."

She raised an eyebrow quizzically. "RZs?"

"Restoration Zones." He gave her a lopsided grin. "Sorry. Bad military habit." She smiled again, and he felt another surge of satisfaction.

"How does the project go about selecting sites for restoration?" she asked.

"A panel of scientists and other experts make recommendations to the administration based on soil moisture, seismic stability… criteria like that. Then we deliberate and give final approval." His grin turned slightly sheepish, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "But, uh… to be totally honest, I think we started here because I pushed for it so hard."

She nodded again, blue eyes trained on him with that uncanny Jedi intensity. "This place has some meaning to you." Whether she could read his emotions or just the look on his face, he wasn't sure.

He looked out over the water. "My… my wife and I used to come here. Before we were married and moved across the planet." He took a deep breath and forced one side of his mouth to turn up again before he met her eyes. "We never had it to ourselves though."

She was still studying him intently. Carth forced himself not to fidget with the fasteners of his jacket. "You chose this spot over the area where you lived with her and Dustil." It wasn't really a question.

His half-grin died, and he turned away from her again. He didn't confirm her guess or intuition or whatever it was. Restoration could have started on the other side of the planet. Many of the workers were from that side—the more populous side once upon a time. Even Dustil had expressed the hope that they could start near where their home had been. The other Telosians were anxious to rebuild, to try and reconstruct some piece of their old lives from the rubble.

But Carth had pushed for this side instead. If he could face this beach—get past the initial survey of the damaged landscape, push through the months of planting and rock sculpting, and then stand on the sand and feel like they had accomplished something—then maybe he'd be ready to face home. Maybe.

He started at a gentle touch on his arm. The intensity in Bastila's eyes had softened to concern. "I'm sorry, Carth."

He shook his head and tried to shake away old memories. "No, it's…" He trailed off, then shook his head again. "Why don't we have a seat?" he continued in a different voice. "We can go over some details of the project."

She nodded and knelt down on the sand in what looked suspiciously like some kind of meditative posture. Her back was ramrod straight, and her hands were folded neatly in her lap. Carth lowered himself to the sand, ignoring the cracks of protests from his lower back, then sat leaning on his legs bent in front of him, elbows resting lightly on knees.

"Is there anything specific you'd like to know?" he asked when they were settled. "I didn't really prepare a formal briefing." He half-smiled at her. "Really, I was just looking for an excuse to get off station for awhile." And to keep her from brooding in a cramped, dimly lit apartment. Whether she guessed or could read that last thought, he didn't know.

"I received a briefing on the basic plan and execution of the project," Bastila said. "I suppose I am most curious as to what my role will be."

"You'll be working with Chodo and the Ithorians," Carth replied. "They're responsible for… well…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "I'm not sure I entirely understand it myself." He turned to face her. "All I know is, that before the Ithorians came, the scientists couldn't get anything to grow here. The geologists were having some luck with the rock formations, but the xenobotanists couldn't get anything to take root. The advisory panel assured me that the science behind it was sound, but for whatever reason, it wasn't working."

Bastila nodded thoughtfully. "To reintroduce life would require more than science."

"Exactly." Carth looked back over the water. "The Ithorians had been offering to help out since the project's inception. I agreed to meet with Chodo, and what he was telling me sounded a lot like what the scientists were telling me." He met Bastila's eyes again. "Except the Ithorians had a solution."

"The Force," Bastila murmured.

Carth nodded. "I ran it by Jolee, who ran it by the Council. They all agreed it was worth trying out." He gestured at the lush landscape just a few hundred yards behind them. "And the results speak for themselves."

Bastila glanced over her shoulder at the expanse of waving grasses and the moss climbing freely over the bluff faces, and Carth thought he saw her posture relax slightly. "Indeed." Her eyes took on a slightly distant cast. "The life here… is new but deeply embedded." She shook herself slightly, then turned to face him again. "I am not sure what I can contribute."

"Well, Chodo's not a Jedi. More a… spiritual leader. I think he and the Council are mutually curious."

Bastila nodded again. "So it will be something of an exchange of knowledge?"

"Yeah." Carth raised an eyebrow. "The Council didn't tell you about any of this?"

Bastila resumed looking out over the water, the wind whipping thin tendrils out of her ponytail. "Sometimes the Masters contend that the discovery of one's purpose is as crucial a lesson as the purpose itself."

Carth snorted. "Hell of a way to run an organization." He shook his head. "Hope I didn't spoil the surprise," he said, grinning slightly.

She smiled. "Perhaps you were meant to be the means to which I was to gain knowledge."

Carth laughed. "You know, ever since I met up with you Jedi, people keep telling me I'm an instrument of the Force. Why do you suppose that is?"

This time she raised an eyebrow. "You doubt it?"

"All I know is, before all of you came along, I was just a star-pilot. I meet a few Jedi, and suddenly bam! I'm an agent of des–" As his eyes roved over the beach, they snagged on three figures rounding a near corner of the bluffs, a slight figure flanked by two much bulkier ones. "Dammit," he muttered. He stood abruptly and began brushing the sand off his pants.

Bastila rose gracefully beside him, turning in the direction of his gaze. "What is it?"

"Czerka," Carth ground out through suddenly clenched teeth.

Bastila frowned. "I thought they had a separate zone in which to conduct their restoration."

"They do."

"Then what are they doing here?"

"No idea." Carth shook his head. "The woman," he said, nodding, "is Tirse Adana. She's the Czerka rep here. She never travels without armed muscle. Which is almost enough in and of itself to convince me she's up to no good. Her attitude makes up the difference." He shook his head again and felt his hands clench into fists at his sides. "Add to that missing shipments of parts bound for the project."

Bastila turned back to him with upraised eyebrows. "She's stealing from the restoration supplies?"

"Not that I can prove." Carth felt his back teeth grinding together as he kept his eyes locked on the approaching party. "Yet. But I will."

Bastila frowned at him but stayed silent as Adana and her goons closed the distance to where she and Carth stood. Up close Adana looked completely harmless—petite, gray-haired, old enough to be Carth's mother. Like a firaxa shark masquerading as a guppa fish.

"Well, hello, Admiral," the gray-haired woman purred in a throaty voice. "So nice to see you on the surface." Her eyes went to Bastila. Her eyebrows raised and her lips quirked in a little smirk of surprise. "And with such a lovely young woman."

The hands that Carth had forced to unclench curled into fists again. "This is Jedi Knight Bastila Shan." He placed a slight emphasis on the title. "She's been assigned by the Council to assist the Republic restoration efforts."

Adana's smirk lingered. "Of course she has," she said in a disbelieving tone, and the tightness in Carth's jaw ratcheted several notches higher.

Adana had taken one of Bastila's hand in both of her own. "Welcome to Telos, my dear. I trust you're duly impressed with our good Admiral's efforts."

Bastila glanced at him, then back to Adana. "I… yes. The restoration project seems to be having remarkable success."

"How could it not?" Adana still kept a vice grip on Bastila's hands, and her firaxa smile stretched even wider. "We have a bona fide Republic hero in charge! And such a dashing one." Adana looked up at him. He supposed the look in her eye was supposed to be a flirtatious twinkle, but it looked more like the gleam of devious planning to Carth.

She turned back to Bastila. "And now there are two of you! What luck for Telos." She turned her head back and forth between them, then sighed in apparent contentment. "And what a darling couple you make."

Bastila gaped at her and attempted to release her hand from Adana's, but the woman gripped her wrist like a shackle. "Madam, I assure you. My relationship with Admiral Onasi is strictly professional."

Adana winked at her and finally released her hand. "Oh, I know, my dear. I know. I'm sure you two had lots of business to discuss down here on a secluded beach."

Bastila frowned. "But that's not at all–"

"Did you need something, Tirse?" Carth cut in. "We were about to head back to the station."

Adana shook her head. "No, no, Admiral. We have everything we need. But so kind of you to ask. Just popped by to say hello."

"All right then," Carth forced out through clenched teeth. It was as close to a smile as he could muster. "We really need to be on our way."

"Don't let me keep you," Adana said with a little gesture toward the bluff path. "I'm sure you two young people have a lot of catching up to do."

Bastila was still gaping at the woman, so Carth grabbed her by the elbow and began to steer her back toward the bluffs. She seemed to stumble along in stunned silence for several minutes, but as soon as they were out of earshot, she let out a loud breath.

"I do not like that woman," she declared, glancing over her shoulder.

Carth snorted a dry laugh. "That makes two of us."

"How could she–? I mean… what insinuations! And she would listen to none of a reasonable explanation!"

"That's Tirse," Carth muttered. He shook his head. He realized he was still holding Bastila's arm and let her go. "And I hate to say it, but if I know her, it'll be all over the station by morning."

Bastila turned to him with a frown. "What will?"

"Uh…" Carth rubbed the back of his neck. "You know…" He gestured between them. "Us."

"But…" Bastila spluttered. "There is no…" She crossed her arms under her chest. "To spread such a rumor would be highly unprofessional."

Carth raised his hands in exasperation. "I know, but trust me. That's never stopped her before. She takes any chance she can get to make me look like a fool."

He lapsed into brooding silence for a moment until he noticed Bastila's slight frown. His last words crept back through his brain, and he felt a warm flush color his face.

"Not that… I didn't mean that someone having some kind of… with you…" he stammered. "Just that, you know, I'm an admiral, you're a Jedi. I'm so much older than you and it would make me seem…"

"Crazy?" Her lips quirked into a smile, but for a second, he thought it looked a little forced. "Yes. So I believe you once told Revan when she asked if there was anything between you and I."

Carth nearly stumbled into the undergrowth at the side of the path. "She, uh… she told you that, huh?" Somehow, some way, from lightyears beyond the Outer Rim, Revan was still getting him into trouble.

He stopped walking and turned to Bastila. "I didn't mean… she was just so…" Nosey. Intrusive. Perceptive. He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. "You know how she was." Then he sighed and shook his head. "There's no way I'm getting out of this gracefully, is there? Though in my defense, that comment is taken way out of context."

Bastila made a small gesture of dismissal with one hand and resumed walking along the path, and he fell in step beside her. "Do not trouble yourself. About that or about Ms. Adana." She glanced back over her shoulder. "It will not be the first time I have been the subject of such rumors. We shall simply have to make it completely obvious that our interactions are strictly professional."

"Right." He nodded, then offered her a tentative grin. "Shall we head back to station, Knight Shan?"

She smiled and nodded back. "Yes, Admiral Onasi." Her expression was completely neutral, but he was relieved to catch a hint of amusement in her voice.


	3. Chapter 3

Carth blinked blearily into the darkness later that night, wondering what the hell had woken him up. He saw the flashing red light right before the comm chimed again. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, then grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head. He stumbled out into the main room and dropped down heavily on the seat in front of the comm. If Tirse Adana was comming him in the middle of the night to complain about Czerka access to supplies again, he was going to personally drag her to the TSF holding cell.

When he pushed the connect button, a very young-looking TSF officer stared back at him and saluted nervously. "Admiral, I'm… I'm sorry to wake you, but Lt. Grenn said that you'd want to know about the report we just received." The young man's eyes flicked to his desk, and he licked his lips.

Carth stifled another sigh. "What was the report about, Ensign?"

The man's eyes came up again. "A report of a disturbance, Admiral. In one of the residential modules. Uh… your module, actually."

Carth frowned as the officer glanced down again, but he managed to avoid rolling his eyes in impatience. "Why did Grenn tell you to comm me, son?"

"The apartment in question…" The officer looked up. "It's… it's the one you assigned to the Jedi, sir."

A sharp spike of fear lanced through Carth, but he just nodded. "Thank you, Ensign. Contact Grenn. Tell him I'll meet him there. Onasi out."

Carth waited until he had cut the comm to jump to his feet, swearing like a space pirate. He hurried to the storage container where he kept his weapons and dug out an armored jacket and his blaster belt. He was out the door before he'd finished buckling it on.

Bastila's second night on the station, and she's attacked. His quick march turned to a jog as he wove his way through the module's twisting corridors. He had no doubt that she could handle herself, but whatever had attacked was on the station. _His_ station. He had a responsibility to protect these people. His thoughts flew back to the families, the children he'd seen in the shuttle bay, and his jog sped up to a sprint.

He arrived, slightly breathless, just as Grenn's squad was forming up outside Bastila's door. Carth was about to ask him to report when a scream cut through the steel door and out into the corridor. Carth pulled one of his blasters from the holster.

"I'll go in first," he said to Grenn. "Stay close behind and fan out when you enter the apartment. You have an access card?"

Grenn nodded and signaled for one of the squad to step forward. The man bent down and slid a small mechanical device into the keycard slot and began punching buttons. Carth tried very hard not to bounce on the balls of his feet. Sweat slicked the hand that held his blaster. Bastila screamed again, a sound that got louder as the door slid back.

Carth practically dove into the apartment, eyes scanning the dimly lit main room. The lights mounted to the TSF blasters swept in lazy arcs across the room as the squad formed up behind him. Carth followed the path of one light toward the closed door of the bedroom. He stopped just beside the door, signaling the men to hold their position. He palmed the door open and swung in front of the threshold, blaster pointing into the room.

And found Bastila, wrapped in her sheets, one arm thrust out at an awkward angle. She muttered something and twisted, further tangling herself. But there was no question that she was asleep.

Carth's shoulders slumped as he let out the breath he'd been holding. He holstered his blaster and returned into the main room.

"Grenn," Carth said quietly, taking the man by the arm, "gather your men and go. I'll handle this."

Grenn frowned at him. "But, sir–"

"I said I'll handle it."

Grenn, still frowning, nodded and signaled to the squad to form up. They were too disciplined to question their orders, but there were a few confused looks exchanged as Grenn marched them back out into the corridor.

Carth followed them to the door, then hit the panel control so the door slid closed. Without the illuminating light from the hallway, the apartment was plunged into darkness. An inarticulate moan floated out from the bedroom. Carth unbuckled his blaster belt, then felt around for the counter that surrounded the kitchen area and placed the belt on top of it. With careful steps and outstretched arms, he began a slow route back to the bedroom. He let out a loud curse as his shin banged hard against a low table, but he made it to the bedroom door more or less unscathed.

He reached around the doorframe with one arm and felt for the control panel. He was aiming for low illumination, but in his fumbling, he managed to turn the lights on full power. He blinked and squinted into the sudden brightness, then turned watering eyes toward the source of a loud gasp.

"Sorry," he said, still squinting. "I didn't mean to startle you."

The figure on the bed came into focus. Bastila sat bolt upright, one hand shielding wide eyes, the other clutching the bedsheets in front of her. For a second, his eyes followed the curve of her smooth, bare arm—it had never _occurred _to him that she might be…—then he saw the straps at her shoulders. And almost all of him was relieved.

"Carth?" The usually steady voice shook a little, and his eyes jumped to her face with concern. A thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to, uh… make sure you were all right."

The hand shielding her eyes dropped, and she made a visible effort to compose herself. "I'm fine," she murmured. "Did you have reason to believe I might be otherwise?"

Carth rubbed the back of his neck. "There was, um…" He sighed. Nothing for it but to dive in. "One of your neighbors heard you. He called TSF."

Blue eyes bored into his. "Heard me? I don't understand."

Carth stepped toward her, one hand held out in a preemptive calming gesture. "Bastila, you were… you were having a nightmare. You… called out in your sleep."

Her mouth fell slightly open for a moment. Then it snapped shut as a pink flush washed over her cheeks. The knuckles of the fingers clutching the sheet turned white.

Carth took another step toward the bed, though he hadn't the faintest clue what he would do if he got there. "Look, it's… it's no big deal. Everyone just sort of overreacted. You have to understand. The sents who work here… they're not used to having a Jedi around. I'm sure they're a little…" His brain finally caught up to his mouth and he trailed off. The last thing she needed was to be told she spooked the rest of the station's crew.

She didn't respond. She didn't even move. She was staring at him, but Carth was sure she wasn't really seeing him. He wasn't even sure she'd heard anything he'd just said.

"Do you… want to talk about it?" he asked quietly.

Her only answer was to push back the sheets and rise from the bed. Carth found himself averting his eyes, though her nightclothes were nothing more revealing than a sleeveless shirt and a loose pair of pants. She collected her outer robe from a nearby chair and turned her back to him as she slipped it around her shoulders. She pulled it tight around her. She just stood silently for a moment, and Carth racked his brain for something more to say. Before he came up with anything, she sighed.

"Perhaps it would be best if I return to Coruscant," she murmured.

"Over one dream?" Carth asked. "Don't you think that's overreacting a little?"

"They are… not dreams. Not exactly."

Carth shook his head. "'They'? You mean this has happened to you before?"

Her head bent slightly. "I had thought they had abated. But apparently not."

Carth let out a loud breath and found his hands fiddling with his jacket fasteners again. He forced them still, then opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"The workers here will think I'm absolutely crazy," she said quietly.

Carth shrugged, though she couldn't see it. "I doubt it. It was a nightmare, Bastila. It happens to everyone."

She turned to him then, her mouth twisted in a bitterly sardonic expression. "Indeed? Have you often had TSF forces infiltrate your quarters because your neighbors reported a disturbance?"

"Look, these walls are paper-thin. You can't imagine the stuff Dustil and I used to hear in our old apartment. And given that our neighbors were eighty-something, I'm not sure you'd want to." She didn't laugh, not even a smile. Carth sighed. "I'm sure if we explain the situation–"

"Yes, of course," she said, rolling her eyes and throwing up her hands in an exasperated gesture. "'Please don't call TSF again, sir. My friend the Jedi is only mildly insane.'"

Carth tried not to, but he snorted a laugh despite himself. She whirled on him. "You find this situation amusing?" she snapped. He couldn't tell from her expression if she was going to attack him or burst into tears.

The urge to laugh died instantly, and he took another step toward her. "If you think hearing a friend in pain is funny to me, then you don't know me very well." He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing furiously. "There's got to be some kind of…" He trailed off as he examined the situation.

The only real problem was the neighbors—the spooked workers. If she lived somewhere else, somewhere where her neighbors wouldn't be alarmed if she had another nightmare, there wouldn't be a problem.

And there was one person on station who had experience with Jedi having bad dreams during a mission.

"Here's what we do," he said, clapping his hands together. "Tav put in a request to be moved down to the new family module." He gave her a small grin. "And I happen to know he was just approved for it by the station's Fleet administrator."

Bastila looked back at him, a small frown creasing the space between her eyebrows. "I don't follow."

"You can move into the apartment he and Merel are vacating—the one next to me. The only one who'd hear you is me."

Her frown deepened, and he sighed. "Look, I know you'd probably prefer it if no one heard you," he said. "I know I would. But it's a small station. We don't have a whole lot of space." He tried the grin again. "And I'm pretty trustworthy."

Her expression stayed bleak, and she tightened her grip on her robe.

His half-grin died, but he held her gaze earnestly. "I promise I won't push you to talk about it if you don't want to. Believe me, I know what it's like to want to leave dark things in the dark," he muttered. "But you won't have to worry about anyone calling TSF and maybe… maybe I can help. I could come in and wake you up… or not," he said quickly at the tight set of her jaw.

She gazed at him in silence for several long moments. Then she sighed. "And what of our attempt to dispel the rumors?" She gestured vaguely toward herself, or, more specifically, her half-dressed state. "I'm sure there are already stories of you appearing in my chambers in the middle of the night. Do we really wish to add to that by making the practice a common one?"

"I'm not sure it matters," Carth said. "Like I said, it's a small station, and we're the closest thing to celebrities on it. The rumors probably started the second you got here." Bastila's gaze dropped to the carpet. "I know it's not a perfect solution," he continued, "but it's all I've got right this second."

"I will… consider it."

He nodded. "Fair enough. Maybe if we sleep on it, we'll come up with something better in the morning. And who knows? Maybe this was just a one-time thing. The effect of sleeping in a new place or something." He tried to catch her eye, but she was still studying the carpet pattern. "You'll be all right?"

"Yes," she said to the carpet. Not exactly convincing, but he got the strong impression that she wanted to be alone. And he'd already promised not to push her. He shook his head. On the planet's surface she'd seemed almost… well, almost like he remembered her. Now he found himself wondering again what exactly Master Vandar thought he could do.

"Okay. I'll just…" He trailed off, jerking a thumb at the door. When she didn't reply, he stifled a sigh, turned, and made his way through her apartment and back out into the station corridor, grabbing his blaster belt on the way.

The module was deserted, the lights dimmed to half-illumination in their attempt to keep as natural a day cycle as possible while in orbit. It was night on the parts of the planet below that were zoned for restoration. Carth's mind did some automatic calculations, calculations that had become second nature in the past five years. He barely had to think about it anymore. It was early morning at home. He forced himself not to picture families at breakfast, kids laughing at the funny-shaped flatcakes their fathers made while mothers smiled and idly scrolled through a newsfeed on a datapad.

Pushing the images away, he refastened the blaster belt around his waist and began to walk resolutely back toward his own apartment. He had to be up in a few hours, and he knew he should get all the sleep he could.

He kept telling himself that. Right up until the first shift alarm went off in his bedroom.

* * *

Carth was working at his desk a few weeks later when the young officer serving as his aide knocked and poked his head into Carth's office. "Someone to see you, Admiral."

Carth frowned. The quarterly report to the Senate was due in three days, and he'd barely found time to begin. "Who is it?"

"The Jedi, sir. Bastila Shan."

"Bastila?" She had never come to see him at his office. It seemed like overkill when they lived next door to each other. True, quick exchanges in their doorways were the extent of their interactions during daylight hours. Despite his intentions to keep an eye on her and make sure she was settling in, his workload didn't permit much time for Jedi-sitting. His meetings with Chodo made it clear that the Ithorians were delighted with her knowledge and command of the Force, and Chodo spoke often of her commitment to the project. Carth felt a pang of guilt as he remembered Chodo's hints at their last meeting of the Jedi's isolation on station.

"Send her in," he said to the aide.

The officer saluted smartly and ducked back out into the foyer. After a moment, the door slid all the way back and Bastila entered the cramped office. Something about her appearance surprised him, and he realized it was because she was wearing her robes rather than the outfit she normally slept in and her hair was swept back in a practical ponytail rather than falling around her shoulders. The nightmares seemed to come at random, but after a while, it began to seem like just another part of Carth's day, one more duty of the Fleet administrator. He woke her up by shaking her shoulder or saying her name, then he'd pull back a bit and give her some time and distance to compose herself. When she seemed less shaken, he'd ask if she was all right, she'd say yes, they'd say good night, and he'd go back to his own bed. He felt another twinge of guilt as he realized that was about all he'd seen of her lately. He should have been seeing her more. He wanted to see her more.

"Come on in," he said, standing up from his desk and waving toward what was little more than a camp chair. It was the best he'd been able to get, and it tended to keep appointments short, which was the way he usually liked them. For the first time, he wished he had something a little more comfortable to offer. "Can I get you anything? Something to drink?"

Bastila shook her head as she sat. "No. Thank you."

Carth took a moment to straighten the piles of datapads that threatened to crash over the edge of his small desk. "Sorry about the mess. Cleaning somehow never seems to make it to my to-do list." One of his hands grazed past one of the larger piles and the top datapad teetered and slipped. Bastila waved her hand, and it floated gracefully into the air and then landed gently back on the pile. Carth grinned. "Thanks."

She smiled slightly then. It might have just been the bad lighting in his office, but he thought she still looked tired. Then again, the last time he'd checked a mirror, he hadn't exactly looked fresh-faced and rosy-cheeked either. "What can I do for you?" he asked, perching himself on the edge of his desk.

"It may be nothing, but I thought it best to inform you," Bastila said. "Three times in the past week, I have noticed men watching the Ithorians as we conduct our work on the surface."

Carth frowned. "Other workers?"

"So I thought," Bastila replied. "But yesterday I recognized a member of their group as one of the men that accompanied Tirse Adana that afternoon on the beach."

Carth felt a particular spot in his shoulder muscle knot up at the very sound of the woman's name. "Why would Czerka be watching the Ithorians?"

Bastila shook her head slightly. "I don't know. Chodo believes there is no harm in it, and I'd like to share his faith, but after Kashyyyk and Tatooine…" She trailed off and gave a small shrug.

Carth snorted. "Faith is not something I have a lot of when it comes to Czerka. If it happens again, contact Lt. Grenn in the TSF office. I'll give him orders to send a squad to escort them back to the Czerka zone."

Bastila nodded. "Of course." She rose from the chair and turned to leave.

Carth hopped down off his desk and followed her a few steps. "Bastila…" She turned back and gazed at him with one curiously raised eyebrow, and he suddenly wasn't sure what exactly he had wanted to say. "How is… uh, how's everything going?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

She smiled. "The project is going very well. We've introduced two new varieties of plant life within the past ten days. I think you'll be pleased with our progress when you next return to the surface."

"Wow," he said, and he found himself smiling back at her. "That's great. Sounds like things are moving along." And it was great. He hadn't heard about progress like that since the Ithorians had first arrived. But his satisfaction was dulled a bit by the hint of dark circles under her eyes and another one of those twinges of guilt. "But I meant more… how's everything… you know, with you?"

The tiny degree to which her smile slipped was barely noticeable, unless you'd spent months traveling with her in a small Corellian freighter. "Everything is fine. I'm learning a great deal from the Ithorians, and I think our collaboration has been very successful. I plan to give the Council a very positive report of the project."

Carth tried not to sigh at the set of her jaw. He knew that look. Hell, he'd practically perfected it when he'd been on Taris with Revan. He wasn't going to get anything else out of her.

"Good," he said. "That's… good." And before she could start to leave again, he added, "If… if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

She nodded stiffly and turned to leave again. As she reached the door, he heard her take a breath and then she turned to face him again. "Carth," she said after another moment's hesitation, "at night, when you come to my apartment, it's… it's very helpful. Thank you."

"No problem," he said, putting all the sincerity and none of the surprise in his voice. "I'm glad to help."

Her smile was brief and a little tight, but he knew she really was grateful. As the door slid shut behind her, he resolved once again to keep a closer eye on her.


	4. Chapter 4

A few nights later, Carth let himself out of Bastila's apartment and into the dimly lit corridor. The cold metal of the deck chilled his bare feet, and he hustled to the door of his own apartment. He reached into his pocket to pull out his passcard and slid it into the door panel. The light on the panel stayed frustratingly red. Frowning, Carth slid the card out, then back in again. Still red. He ran a hand through his hair, blinking sleepily down at the malfunctioning card. Then he realized it must be the card to Bastila's apartment. Unfortunately, a quick search of his pockets showed that it was the only card he had on him. He must have dropped his card in Bastila's apartment.

He glanced at the door just down the corridor. He felt bad about disturbing her again, but he figured he could just run in, grab it, and be out of there before she fell asleep again.

He had just reached her door when he heard voices from around the corner. Carth could only smile and shake his head ruefully. Through some twist of luck—or maybe the Force just had a strange sense of humor—there never seemed to be anyone in the corridor when Bastila cried out, but as soon as he stood outside her door, someone from third shift headed home would invariably come around the corner and catch him letting himself in. It usually earned an amused smile and shake of the head from the female workers and a broad grin and sometimes a pat on the back from the men.

Despite whatever Adana's intentions had been, the rumors only served to make Carth more popular. The men on the station took one look at Bastila and shook their heads in wonder and offered him covert thumbs-up. The woman swapped what little was known of his personal history and all agreed that the beautiful young Jedi was just what "that poor man" needed.

As he'd guessed, a pair of jumpsuited workers turned the corner. The sight of the Fleet administrator of the station—and a Republic admiral to boot—standing in the corridor in what were obviously his sleep clothes brought a halt to their conversation. The female worker glanced over at the male worker, and they exchanged a knowing grin.

"Having a nice night, Admiral?" the woman asked as they passed.

"Nice enough," Carth replied. He'd stop trying to correct people's assumptions. They jumped to their own conclusions no matter what he said. "You?"

"Yep," the man said, draping his arm over the woman's shoulders.

"As you were, then," Carth said, waving them on. They laughed and continued on down the corridor. As Carth slid the passcard into Bastila's door panel, the woman glanced back at him over her shoulder, then nudged the man. Carth shook his head again, still smiling, and ducked into the apartment.

The door slid shut behind him, taking away the workers' retreating footsteps and the dim light of the corridor. He stood in the silence for a minute, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. Then he heard a strange sound coming from the bedroom, where a faint sliver of light spilled through the crack in the door. Something about the sound tugged at the back of his memory. For some reason, he found himself thinking about the night Dustil's pet cat had been hit by a speeder. He'd been about eight or so and absolutely distraught. Morgana had held him for hours, soothing him with stories about a beautiful cat afterlife, until he'd finally cried himself to sleep. Then Morgana had curled into their bed and finally let loose her own storm of quiet weeping, as Carth held her, feeling helpless.

Without thinking what he would say or do when he got there, Carth marched straight into Bastila's bedroom. She was in the center of the bed, legs drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around her shins, shoulders shaking, her face buried in her knees. Seeing her like that, looking so vulnerable and alone and… _young_, brought Carth up short. This was… this was Bastila Shan. The trembling figure on the bed didn't seem to even belong in the same galaxy as the Jedi princess. He just stared for a moment, absolutely flabbergasted.

Though he hadn't moved or spoken or made a sound, her head suddenly snapped up as if he'd cleared his throat. She gaped back for a moment, then scrambled from the bed and to the chair that held her robe. She fumbled to wrap it around herself and turned her back on him.

"What is it, Carth?" she asked. Her voice sounded composed but had a strange nasal quality.

"Bastila, I…" He approached her slowly like she was a caged boma. He gently reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "How long has this been going on?"

She sighed. "It doesn't matter."

"It sure as hell matters to me. If you're… if you're hurting or you need help…"

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe, then turned to face him. Pink splotches marred her usually flawless skin, and her blue eyes were red. "There isn't anything you can do. But thank you for the offer." She shook her head. "Was there… something you needed help with?"

He just stared down at her, at a loss for words for the second time in a span of minutes. "You… Bastila, you can't think I'm just going to let this go."

A little of the normal spark returned to her eyes. "I don't see how it's any of your business."

"None of my…? Are you kidding me?" He let go of her shoulder and ran a hand through his hair. "Even if we weren't friends—which I thought we were—I'm an administrator on this project. I have a responsibility to make sure that everyone involved is handling things okay."

Her jaw tightened. "If you believe I am unfit for my post, then you can contact the Council on Coruscant. I'm sure they'd be happy to send a new consultant."

He pointed a finger at her. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Bastila, you can't just…" He flailed helplessly for words.

"I can't what?" she snapped. "Can't keep my past to myself? I have every right to keep my private life private, a concept that I would think you of all people would be able to accept."

His back stiffened, and his brow came down. "What's that supposed to mean?" he retorted.

"Revan may have wheedled you for every detail of your life, but I respected your privacy," she said coolly. "I am merely asking that you do the same."

"That's… that's totally different," he replied, but it lacked the force of before. She was right, dammit.

Him losing steam seemed to take some of the battle out of her as well. "Carth, I… I know you mean well," she said softly, "but truly there is nothing you can do. The Masters are aware of my… situation, and they believe that time is the best cure. Perhaps the only cure."

He shook his head stubbornly. "I don't accept that. Look, I know I wasn't exactly… forthcoming about my past when we all first started out, but talking to you and Revan and the others… it… it helped. More than I thought it would."

Bastila was looking at the carpet again, and he sighed. "I've dealt with my share of nightmares is all I'm saying, so maybe I can… I don't know." He sighed again. "I can at least listen."

She met his eyes then. "I appreciate that, Carth. A great deal. And when the time comes that I feel I can…"

He held up his hands. "I get it. You're not ready. Fair enough."

She looked down at the carpet again, and he glanced around the room like he would find some answer. His eyes fell on the chair near the bed, and he walked over to it, sat down, and clapped his hands on his knees.

"So… what should we talk about then?"

Bastila turned to him with both eyebrows raised. "Carth, it's very late. Surely you'd like to…"

"What I'd like to do is have a conversation with a friend who I have a feeling isn't going back to sleep anytime soon. And since she won't let me talk about what's bothering her…"

This time she raised her hands in surrender. She also offered him a small smile, then shook her head and perched on the edge of the bed. "You are very persistent."

"So I've been told." She stayed silent for a moment, and he cleared his throat as he searched for some topic of conversation. He wasn't the one who was good at this kind of stuff. Revan was the one who'd always gotten the crew talking. Looking up at Bastila he wondered if maybe that was part of the problem.

"Is it strange?" he asked. "Since Revan left, I mean."

"I…" She sighed. "In some ways, yes."

"Do you two still…? Is there still a bond between you?" Carth still didn't entirely understand what that meant, but he'd spent enough time around the Jedi to accept it.

"The bond still exists, but it has been stretched so thin by distance that I am scarcely aware of it a great deal of the time." Carth couldn't tell if she was sad about that or relieved. Maybe both.

"What happened to her, Bastila?"

Bastila sighed again, and her eyes dropped to his hands, though he had a feeling she wasn't really seeing them. "She began to remember her past. It was scattered at first, small pieces, fleeting images. In time, however, it became more complete. And more vivid."

She met his eyes again. "She began to shield me from it, so I cannot say what it was exactly that drove her to leave. I only know that it affected her deeply." She shook her head. "And that she would not allow me to help her."

"It sounds like she was trying to protect you," Carth said quietly.

"But I might have–" She cut herself off with another shake of her head. She lapsed into silence. Carth looked down at the hands clasping and unclasping between his knees, as if he might find something further to say written on them.

"How you must have hated me for concealing the truth from you."

Carth looked up in surprise at the sound of her voice, and it took him a minute to realize what she meant. "You mean after the _Leviathan_?"

She nodded, her eyes fixed on her own hands, and Carth wondered how long she'd been letting that bother her. He forgot sometimes that she hadn't been there, hadn't see the aftermath. He wasn't sure whether he should give her the truth or words of comfort. He settled on both.

"I think I hated everyone for a while," he began quietly. "Revan. The Council. You. Jolee, for knowing and not telling me. Mission, for just accepting it. Canderous, for… well, for being Canderous, I guess."

He glanced over at her bent head. "But later, when I'd had time to… to get my mind around it, I started thinking about the position the Council put you in." He ran a hand through his hair and let out a long breath. "You saved Revan. You… you did this incredibly selfless thing. And not just selfless. You did the smart thing. The strategic thing. You gave the Republic a chance when we didn't have any." He shook his head. "And you got saddled with all her baggage. It wasn't fair."

She continued to gaze at her hands, but he could see her struggling to keep her composure. "Perhaps not," she said finally in a steady voice, "but that shouldn't have mattered. A Jedi is expected to face challenges…"

"Challenges?" Carth interjected. "Bastila, they asked you to do the impossible! You were still a Padawan, still supposed to be learning yourself, and you're supposed to keep a rein on the Dark Lord of the Sith? When she's in your head? And you're not allowed to tell anyone else about it? It was… what they asked of you… it was too much."

"Too much for me, obviously," she murmured.

"Too much for anyone," Carth said firmly. "The fact that you're still here, that we're sitting on a station orbiting Telos, that there's anything left of Telos to orbit… that's what you did. None of this would be here if not for you."

Bastila shifted uncomfortably on the bed, then sighed. "And I would not be here if not for Revan."

"Who wouldn't be here if not for you." Carth shook his head and gave her a lopsided grin. "Face it. When the time came, you did the right thing. More than once."

She didn't answer, and silence filled the room again. He decided a tactical change of subject was in order, and he had just opened his mouth to ask how she liked working with the Ithorians when a familiar beeping sound cut through the room.

He frowned as he glanced toward the main room. "That's the first shift alarm," he said.

"Yes," she said, rising. "I've kept you here much too long, and I'm sure you have a great deal to do today." She began walking toward the door of the bedroom as if to show him out.

He stood but didn't leave his spot in front of the chair. "Why is the first shift alarm going off in your place?"

She paused and turned to him, a small furrow between her eyebrows. "I… because I have been working the first shift," she said slowly, as if unsure what he was asking.

"But… you're never here when I get home. You're always gone." He shook his head. "I assumed you were working second shift. I never hear you come in until after I'm in bed. Where do you go after hours?"

She didn't answer, but to his surprise, he thought he saw her cheeks start to color. It had never occurred to him that she might have something other than work to do on the station. Maybe people didn't believe the rumors as much as he thought they did. Maybe she wasn't as isolated as he'd thought. Maybe he was the isolated one, he thought wryly.

He held up his hands. "Hey, I don't mean to pry. If you… if it's personal… I mean, if you're, uh… I don't know… seeing someone or something…" He didn't know why that should take him so by surprise. She was a beautiful woman. A beautiful young woman who probably had a lot more in common with the young guys on the station than with a middle-aged admiral…

It took him a minute to realize she was staring at him. "Carth, I… I'm not…" She shook her head. "No. No, it's not anything like that."

He ran a hand through his hair and tried to figure out why her saying that should make him feel something like relief. He must have gotten used to the idea that he was the one who was supposed to help her. Maybe even took a little satisfaction in it. That wasn't strange.

"What is it then?" he asked.

"I…" She trailed off and gestured vaguely, then took a deep breath and stood straighter, meeting his eye. "There is a great deal of work to be done. I feel I should make myself as useful as I can."

Carth nodded slowly, still confused. "Well, yeah. I mean, we're all trying to…" He trailed off as realization finally dawned. Realization that was swiftly joined by anger. "Wait a minute. You're telling me you go down with first shift and don't come back up until the end of second? Bastila, that's…" He had to pause in his rant to do the math. "That's a nineteen-hour day!"

She continued to meet his gaze, but the blush on her cheeks grew darker. "As a Jedi, I am capable of working much longer hours than the average worker, and so I…"

"That's banthashit!" he cut her off with a violent sweep of his hand. Blue eyes widened in shock at his vehemence. He didn't care. He pointed a finger at her. "Does Chodo know you're working yourself to death?"

The shock in her eyes cooled to something more frosty. "I do not answer to Chodo. Nor do I answer to you. I am a representative of the Jedi Council, and I will perform my duties as I see fit."

"Not on my watch, sister," he snapped. "And if you think the Jedi Council will back you up on this, you're crazy." He shook his head again, his jaw clenching as he thought of how many times he'd sat with her in this room in the middle of the night, how he'd found her tonight. "With the nightmares, you're getting what? Two hours of sleep? If that? That's… Bastila, that's crazy!"

Her look could have frozen a puddle on Tatooine. "As I said, I am a Jedi," she said. "My physical limitations far exceed that of anyone else aboard this station. Now if you'll excuse me…" She turned her back on him and began to walk toward the refresher.

He crossed the room in a few long strides and grabbed her arm. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

She glared down at the hand on her arm, then met his gaze fiercely. "I am going to get ready for the day."

"Like hell. You're going back to bed if I have to tie you down myself."

"You are welcome to try," she clipped, and his hand was wrenched off her arm by an invisible force. Or Force, he guessed.

He raised it again and opened his mouth to argue, but then let his hand drop. "Okay, fine. You're right. I can't stop you physically. But dammit, Bastila, you can't keep this up. I don't care how much Jedi training you have. And you know it."

She glared at him for a moment longer, then her shoulders slumped and she looked away. "I… I hadn't intended for it to go this far," she said softly. "You're right, of course. I just…" She trailed off and shook her head.

"I know," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I get it. I do. But this isn't the way to deal with this, Bastila. Whatever this is. This isn't why the Masters sent you here." He suddenly remembered Master Vandar's words. "Being here… it's, it's not a punishment for you. You're supposed to be… well, I don't know how exactly it's supposed to work, but they sent you here to… to heal, not to work yourself to the point of exhaustion."

She made a small exasperated sound and finally turned back to him. "Of course not. Carth, I don't see being here as a punishment. I… enjoy my work here." She shook her head. "Perhaps too much. Being on the surface, I feel…"

"Useful?" he offered.

She nodded. "I feel as though I have a purpose down there. But up here…"

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "There's not a whole lot to distract you from old memories on station."

Blue eyes met his. "Yes," she said softly. "Exactly."

He sighed. "But you can't just work all of the time, Bastila." He ran a hand through his hair. "Okay," he said after a deep breath. "Here's the plan. Go down for first shift if you want." His eyes ran over her face. "I doubt you're going back to sleep anyway," he said ruefully. "But come back up after first shift ends. We'll… I don't know… we'll have dinner or watch something mindless on the HoloNet or… or talk if you want… whatever," he said, holding up his hands to cut off her protests. "I don't care what. Just something that's not work or sleep. Deal?"

She gazed at him for a long moment, then finally sighed and nodded. "Yes. All right."

He smiled. "Great. I'll meet you back here at shift's end."

* * *

Carth checked his watch for what was probably the tenth time, then knocked on Bastila's door for the fourth. He wasn't really expecting her to suddenly answer, but he didn't know what else to do. She'd agreed to meet him here, at her apartment. He was sure about that. He was also just as sure that she was not in her apartment. His feelings hovered somewhere between annoyed and worried.

He turned and walked the short distance to the entrance to his own apartment. A quick check of his comm console showed no messages. Well, none from Bastila anyway. Worry was starting to become the dominant feeling. Even if she was mad at him for butting in, it wasn't like her to just stand him up. At least, it wouldn't have been like her. So either she'd changed more than he'd thought or…

Or something wasn't right.

Carth opened the active comm channel and hailed the lieutenant on duty in the shuttle bay. A young red-haired woman appeared on the screen, a surprised look on her face.

"Admiral," she said, "I was just about to comm you."

Carth frowned. "What's up, Lieutenant?"

"B Squad from first shift is reporting that two of their workers haven't checked in from the fields. They're asking if they should take their scheduled shuttle or if they should wait and see if the stragglers turn up."

Worry was quickly solidifying into a solid lump in his gut. "Are any of the other squads reporting missing workers?"

She glanced down and Carth heard the tapping of keys. "No, sir, though C Squad hasn't provided a head count yet." She looked back up at him. "And we don't get reports from the Ithorians."

He nodded. "Good thought, Lieutenant. Comm me as soon as C Squad checks in. I'll contact the Ithorians. Tell B Squad to hang tight for the next half hour, then come on up if they haven't located their missing members."

It was only after he'd contacted the Ithorians that he remembered that his command of their language was sketchy at best. The herd member who answered the call was concerned about something though, and through a combination of gestures and guesses, Carth was betting someone hadn't checked in with them either.

He'd barely hung up before he was digging through his footlocker for his armored jacket. Again. He hadn't pulled it out since he stepped on station until a few weeks ago, and now he'd pulled it out twice since Bastila arrived. As he slipped it on, he told himself that the first time had amounted to nothing and that this time probably would, too. But he still slipped his blaster into his belt.

He stopped in at the TSF station on his way to the shuttle bay. Grenn was manning the front desk, which was all for the better.

"Problem, Admiral?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure yet. Could be something. Could be nothing. But I'd like to borrow a squad if you can spare one."

Green raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like something. And if it is, one squad might not be enough."

Carth shook his head. "You're stretched thin as it is. If I need more than a squad, well…" He grinned. "You'll just have to come down and save my ass."

Grenn snorted. "Wouldn't be the first time."

He commed to the dispatcher, and within minutes, four officers met Carth outside the station. TSF was underfunded, understaffed, and underappreciated, but they were getting the job done, just like everyone on Citadel Station.

He gestured for the squad to follow him and briefed them on the way. "A few workers from a few different teams haven't checked in," he said. He set a quick pace through the corridors, jogging and weaving his way through the groups of off-duty workers. "We're going to go check it out."

"Any leads, Admiral?" one of the two women asked. Grenn had rattled off their names, but Carth couldn't recall them now for the life of him. Thank the Force for titles.

"I've got a few suspicions, Officer, but we're going to do a wide sweep just to cover our bases."

They arrived at the shuttle bay and were given immediate clearance to head down to the surface. The lieutenant he'd spoken to earlier told him that the B Squad workers hadn't shown up, but all C Squad workers were accounted for. Small blessings.

With one of the shifts just returned, plenty of shuttles were available, and Carth picked the one that looked the most likely to make it to the surface quickly. Or make it to the surface at all. He shook his head and reminded himself to check in with the requisition officer about new shuttles. The corrosive atmosphere ate away years of service from all the vessels they had.

He took the controls himself and got them down to the surface in one piece and with only a few maintenance warning lights going off. He checked the map a lieutenant at the shuttle bay had downloaded into his datapad, showing what sector the missing workers had been in. His hand gripped the datapad a little tighter when he saw it was the sector of the official restoration project closest to the Czerka offshoot. Maybe his suspicions were more than just suspicions after all.

The side of the planet they'd landed on was heading toward night, and they were losing light fast. He led the squad out toward the sector indicated on the map. They were young, but serving in the TSF wasn't something anyone undertook lightly and Grenn had trained them well. They looked alert but not jumpy. Their steps through the long grasses weren't silent, but for a security force, they did a pretty good job of keeping quiet. He'd have to remember to officially commend them for this. Assuming it all turned out well.

They got to the indicated sector, and Carth signaled them to a halt. "Let's split up. You two," he said, gesturing to two of the officers, "head out in a wide search pattern. You two are with me."

"Where are we headed, Admiral?" one of the officers who followed him asked.

"We're going to pay Czerka a little visit."


	5. Chapter 5

Carth paused on the ridge and looked down on the short corridor of force field that connected the Czerka private restoration zone with the official sanctioned area. It was obvious even from a distance where one ended and the other began. The force fields for the Republic side shone smooth blue; the Czerka fields were yellow, and they crackled and sparked in the fading light. A narrow metal strip bound the two force fields. Carth sincerely hoped there was a Republic-built failsafe as part of the mechanism. He made a mental note to check it out when he got back to his office.

But more important for the immediate mission were the four thugs standing on either side of the archway. Carth squinted. He wasn't sure, but none of them seemed to be the two guys who had been with Tirse Adana that day at the beach. If they weren't, they might not know who he was. He loosened the blaster in his belt, but he didn't quite pull it out. Not yet.

Instead he pulled out his commlink and contacted one of the officers he'd left in the field. "This is Admiral Onasi. We're about to approach the Czerka zone. If I don't comm back within two hours, go back to the station and get back-up."

"Understood, sir."

Carth turned to the two officers who were with him. The female officer seemed a little older. She gazed back at him calmly, the thumb of one hand hitched in her belt near her blaster. The other officer licked his lips and glanced over his shoulder at the thugs before looking back at Carth.

"What now, Admiral?"

Carth gave him a reassuring smile. "We're going to go down and have a little chat. Most likely it's all just a misunderstanding. We'll probably beat third shift back to the station."

The man nodded, and Carth clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past. He led the way up over the rim of the ridge and then down the other side. About halfway down, they were spotted. One of the thugs turned and said something to the others, and they all looked up at the ridge. Carth held up his hands and did his best to keep his pace to a casual saunter.

"Hey, fellas," he called when they were within speaking distance. "I'm hoping you can point me in the direction of Tirse Adana. I need to talk to her."

The thugs looked at one another, and then the one who had spotted them spoke up. "It's past office hours. You want to talk to Adana, you can come back in the morning."

Carth shook his head. "Sorry. Can't do that. It's kind of urgent. You must have a way to get in touch with her in case of emergency."

The thug looked Carth up and down, then glanced at the two TSF officers and then up the ridge. "I don't see no emergency, so why don't you just head back the way you came?"

"Look, guys," Carth said, holding up his hands. "We don't want any trouble. I'm Admiral Onasi. I'm the Fleet administrator for the Republic project. Some of our people didn't report back after their shift. We just want to make sure we cover all our bases looking for them."

"Nobody's come by here," the head thug said.

"Well," Carth said, rubbing the back of his head, trying to keep looking casual, "we don't know when they might have gone missing. Could have been before you showed up for your shift. That's why we just want to check things out with Tirse."

"And I said we can't help you," the thug said, crossing his arms over his chest. The men standing behind him started to reach for their weapons, mostly stun batons by the look of it. Carth heard a soft sound behind him and knew that the TSF officers had started to slide their blasters from their holsters.

There were two ways this could go. He could do what he'd been doing about the missing equipment—walk away, file an official report, and wait for a response from Coruscant. His jaw tightened. But this wasn't equipment. Equipment he could leave behind.

So there was plan B. See where this would go. Either they could overpower the thugs and they'd get in, or they could get beaten by the thugs and get taken in. Either way got him where he wanted to go. Even Tirse Adana wouldn't risk killing TSF or Republic officers.

He hoped.

His hand strayed to his blaster. "If you know anything about this, you can all be prosecuted for kidnapping. Tell me what you know, and I might be able to get you leniency." His fingers reached the blaster's handgrip. "But I'm not leaving here without my people."

The thug shrugged, and two of the other men shouldered past him and lunged at Carth. He pulled his blaster and hit one of them in the chest. The man grunted, then dropped to the ground stunned. The other thug tackled Carth to the ground and knocked the blaster out of his hand. Carth heard more blaster shots along with a good deal of shouting and cursing. He grappled to get more leverage on his attacker, but the man had at least thirty kilos on him. He finally got a knee wedged against the man's stomach, and he pushed up hard. The thug grunted, then released Carth's shoulder to punch him hard in the jaw. For a second, Carth saw stars, but punching him had knocked the thug off balance, and when Carth rolled to the side, he was able to scramble away.

He swayed to his feet just in time to catch a stray blaster shot in the knee. Half his leg went numb, and he stumbled, cursing. One of the other thugs grabbed him from behind and tackled him to the ground. Through the waving grass, Carth could see that two of the thugs were unconscious but so was one of the TSF officers. As he struggled to rise, he saw the head thug fire a blaster at the female TSF officer. Carth's breath froze as she slumped to the ground, and he prayed he hadn't cost lives betting on what Tirse Adana would or wouldn't do.

The head thug stalked over to where Carth still struggled in the grass. As he stepped into view, Carth could see that the man held the blaster he'd had knocked away. Carth breathed a little deeper in relief, knowing that the officer was only stunned. His next breath exploded out of him as the man's boot collided hard with his side. Sharp pain and a soft crack. He lay gasping for a second, then the man who'd held him down got up and hauled him to his feet to face his own blaster.

"I guess you're not leaving here," the head thug said. He squeezed the trigger, there was a faint pop, and everything faded to white.

* * *

Carth woke to a strange sense of movement. When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking down at his own boots dragging along a rough, rocky floor. Hands held him by each arm. He was still working to get his bearings when the world tilted for one disorienting moment. Then a different rocky floor was rushing up to meet him.

Carth tried to land on his feet, but his wounded knee gave out beneath him. He fell awkwardly onto his side, jolting his broken ribs and prompting a grunt of pain. He just lay on the rocky floor for a second, trying to catch his breath through the shooting jabs in his side. A hole in the ceiling gaped black above him, then he heard a faint buzzing and a yellow force field filled the hole. From what he could tell from the crackling yellow light, he'd been thrown into deep pocket in the rock, not much wider than a crevasse. His cell seemed to connect to another through a crack where another force field shimmered.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he jerked to look behind him, releasing another grunt.

"Bastila." Just seeing her went a long way toward melting the icy knot of worry in his gut. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, her brow creased with concern. She reached down and worked an arm under his shoulder, helping him sit up. "Are you badly hurt?"

"I've had worse." He tried for a grin as he wrapped his arm around his right side, but her frown only deepened.

His eyes traveled over her, checking her for injuries, but she looked as together as she always did, other than a smear of dirt across her left cheek. And the glint of metal around her neck. Any hope he'd had of a quick end to his pain sank again.

He gestured toward it. "That means what I think it means, doesn't it?"

Her hand went to the collar at her throat, and she nodded again. "I'm afraid so."

He glanced around at the dank cave. "We'll have to figure something out. They won't keep us here for long." When Adana found out her goons had hijacked not only the Fleet administrator but a Jedi as well, she might get desperate enough to turn to a permanent solution. From the grim look in Bastila's eyes, she knew it, too.

"I may be able to help," a soft voice murmured from behind them.

With Bastila's help, Carth turned to face the other crackling yellow force field. Bao-Dur sat in the next cell, leaning casually against the rocky wall. The Zabrak's head was turned away, but he made a small gesture with one hand.

"Pretend to bring him here to examine him in the light from the force field," he said quietly to Bastila.

Bastila turned to Carth, a question in her blue eyes. He nodded, and with her help, he managed a crouching, limping shuffle to the corner. She eased him back down to lean against the rocky wall. He and Bao-Dur were now back to back, separated only by the rock with the force field in arm's reach. Bastila's left shoulder grazed the field, and it sparked.

"Now what?" Carth asked, pitching his voice low.

"Pretend to examine him, or the guards will be suspicious," Bao-Dur murmured.

The Czerka thugs had stripped him of his armor, leaving only his black undershirt. Bastila pushed the fabric up to his chest, and delicate fingers began to probe his injuries. Carth jerked and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth when she found the first broken rib. She winced in sympathy and shook her head.

"If I can't heal you, we will have to find a way to bind them so they cause no more damage."

He just nodded, his teeth grinding together. He gazed over her shoulder at the force field as she continued her ministrations. Bao-Dur had turned slightly, as if idly curious about her medical exam. He barely seemed to be paying attention to them, but suddenly his glowing mechanical arm pushed through the field like it wasn't there. Carth frowned, and Bastila turned to follow his gaze. Bao-Dur's hand grabbed her shoulder.

"Keep your focus on him," he cautioned. She nodded and turned back to Carth. The mechanical hand slid up her shoulder to the collar at her neck.

Ignoring the protest from his ribs, Carth leaned forward and grabbed Bao-Dur's arm by the wrist. "Wait a minute," he muttered. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm deactivating the collar," the Zabrak replied evenly.

Bastila frowned, but kept her gaze on Carth's chest. "If you could do so, why didn't you before?"

"I wasn't sure you would trust me," the Zabrak replied. "But we both trust the Admiral."

Bastila met Carth's gaze for a silent moment, then she nodded.

"Are you sure you can do it?" Carth asked, his hand still holding the prosthetic wrist. "If you're wrong, you could hurt her."

"It's a simple design. It was common issue during the wars. I could work it in my sleep." There was no bravado in the Zabrak's voice, only a simple statement of fact.

"It's all right, Carth," Bastila murmured. "It may be our best chance for escape."

Reluctantly, Carth let go of Bao-Dur's wrist and leaned back against the wall. Bastila's hands continued to poke and prod at his chest in the illusion of an exam, but he barely noticed the sharp twinges as he focused on watching Bao-Dur's hand at her throat. The Zabrak wasn't even looking in her direction. Carth's jaw clenched again, this time with the ratcheting tension. He glanced at Bastila, but her expression was completely calm, as though she were truly absorbed in her fake medical exam and not at all aware that someone was messing with a collar tied directly to her nervous system.

The silence was broken tense minutes later by a barely audible click. Bastila's expression didn't change, but Carth felt a cool wave seep through his skin from her hands. Most of the time during the Star Forge mission, it had been Revan who'd healed him. He hadn't realized the healing of different Jedi would feel different. Revan's healing was like being plunged into an icy river, but the wave he felt now from Bastila was like wading into a cool pond. He wondered if the difference was in their training or in their personalities.

The wave spread from his chest down to his knee and up to his battered jaw, and he gave a soft sigh of relief. Now that her hands didn't prompt stabs of pain, he was much more aware of the feel of her touch on his skin. Goosebumps prickled up across his chest, and when she moved her fingers again, he sucked in another breath. She frowned.

"Are you still hurt?" she said softly. "Perhaps the collar is still affecting me."

"No, it's not that." A warm flush crept up his cheeks, and he grinned sheepishly. "I just… I'm, uh… I'm kind of ticklish."

Blue eyes blinked at him. Then a pink blush colored her cheeks, and she snatched her hands away from his side.

He sat up, pushing his shirt back down over his abdomen. "How did they get you?" he asked her.

"I don't believe they intended to," she said. "Moxa and I were examining a section of land near the Czerka zone. We stumbled across two workers being accosted by men we didn't recognize. They threatened to injure the workers unless we came along as well."

Carth frowned. "Do you know who the workers were?"

"I believe they were the xenobotanists assigned to Squad B."

Carth nodded. "Then they're probably the people I got word were missing. Let's hope there's not any more." He turned to Bao-Dur. "How long have you been down here?"

The Zabrak shrugged. "A day. Maybe more. At first they offered me compensation to work for them instead of you. I don't think they liked my answer."

Carth shook his head. "I'm sorry. I should have been checking in with you more."

"I prefer my solitude, Admiral. I figured someone would come looking for me eventually."

Carth looked up at the force field again, scratching his chin. "Where are we anyway?"

"It appears to be an underground complex," Bastila answered. "These caverns appear to have survived the bombardment largely intact. Czerka has merely enhanced them with force fields and other fortifications. Their efforts at restoring any of the surface plants or geology seem to have failed."

"That must be why they wanted the scientists," Carth said.

Bastila nodded. "That is what I believe."

Carth shook his head again, then let out a loud breath. "They can't get anything to work, so first they take our equipment, then they take our people. But it's done now. There's no way they're getting away with this." He looked up again. "So how do we get out of here?"

"Bao-Dur," Bastila said, "can you work through the force fields above us as you did this one?"

He nodded. "But I'd have to find a way up there first."

"I believe I may be able to help now that the collar is deactivated," she said. "However, it will certainly attract the attention of the guards."

"Better move quick then," Carth muttered.

She nodded and turned to Bao-Dur. "I can levitate you along that side of the cavern. Perhaps the overhang will shield you from the watching guards long enough to release the force field."

Carth expected the Zabrak to be at least a little perturbed by the suggestion, but he just nodded and got casually to his feet. Carth shook his head and grinned. "Nothing fazes you, does it?"

Bao-Dur looked down at them. "Not anything a Jedi does. Not since the war." He looked up again. "I'll try to take out the lights, too."

He strolled over to the far side of his cell, then nodded at Bastila. She nodded back and gestured discreetly. The Zabrak's feet hovered for a moment above the ground, and he began to slowly climb along the stone wall, shielding the glow of his prosthetic arm behind his back. The light there was dimmer, and he blended with the shadows of the rocky overhang. Carth had to squint to make out his shape just beneath the force field. Then his glowing arm reappeared and reached up through the force field. Carth's ears strained to hear any shout of alarm or running footsteps, but the walkways above them stayed quiet.

"Once the force field's down, can you get us up there?" he muttered to Bastila, his eyes still fixed on Bao-Dur's arm.

"I would not have suggested this plan if I could not," she replied. Her voice was even, and when he glanced at her, her face showed no sign of strain.

He grinned. "You could do this with your eyes closed, couldn't you? I almost feel a little sorry for Czerka."

A slight smile lifted the corner of her lips. "It was rather unfortunate that they should have caught the only Jedi affiliated with the project."

"I guess the Force was looking out for us," Carth replied.

"Let us hope it continues to do so," she murmured. At that moment, the yellow light filtering into the cells died and the cavern was plunged into blackness. A sudden silence replaced the crackling, but it was soon broken by shouts. "We've been discovered."

"Send me up fast," Carth muttered.

The words had barely left his mouth when he felt the floor fall away from his feet. Cool air rushed past his face, and he was suddenly very glad that Bastila could do this with her eyes closed because he couldn't see a thing. His ascent slowed, and lights appeared out of the darkness—Bao-Dur's arm and the handheld lights the guards carried. Carth glanced down and swallowed at the open air beneath his boots. Then he shifted a few meters forward and his feet hit ground again. A moment later Bastila shot out of the cell and landed lightly on her feet beside him.

They ran forward together toward where Bao-Dur wrestled one of the guards dangerously close to the hole in the floor that led to one of the cells. Bastila gestured as she ran, and the guard flew back and hit the wall. He dropped to his knees, and Bao-Dur walked up and knocked him on the head with his prosthetic fist. There was a dull crack, and the guard slumped to the floor. Bao-Dur grabbed his light and stun baton, then gestured for Carth and Bastila to follow him down a side corridor.

They moved as quickly as the darkness would allow, Carth and Bao-Dur stumbling and cursing occasionally. Bastila's step didn't seem to falter, and when they reached a partially fallen-in section where debris littered the floor, she took his arm and guided him.

"Thanks, beautiful," he muttered absently, glancing behind him to see if they were being followed. Suddenly she did stumble, and he caught her arm, feeling his face go red in the mercifully concealing darkness. "Sorry. I didn't mean… well, I didn't _not_ mean…" He cleared his throat. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said, a little breathlessly. "Fine."

Someone shouted ahead of them, and Carth could just make out two other guards turning the corner. Bastila waved her hand, and one of the guards froze, one foot still lifted mid-stride. The other slid past Bao-Dur and the stunned guard and charged at Carth. He raised a stun baton, but Carth bent over at the last second and grabbed at the man's leg. The guard flipped over Carth's back and landed hard on the rocky floor. The stun baton popped out of his hand and skittered across the floor toward Carth. He stopped it with one foot, scooped it up, then bent to stun the guard. When the man was unconscious, Carth stripped the light from his hand. He got to his feet, then nodded to Bao-Dur to continue leading the way. He made sure to grab the stun baton from the stunned guard as he went by.

They twisted and turned through a maze of corridors, both natural and man-made. Before long, Carth was hopelessly turned around. "Are we even heading the right way?" he muttered to Bastila.

"I have been sensing a cluster of living energy toward the other end of the compound," she replied. "He has been consistently leading us in that direction."

"How is he doing that?" he asked.

In the dim illumination of his handheld light, he saw her bite her lip. "I don't know." She shook her head. "But we are nearly there."

They turned another corner and crackling yellow fields suddenly appeared at their feet. Carth glanced down into one cell and could just make out two men looking up at him through the sparking force field. Bao-Dur instantly knelt and began to work the cell controls while Bastila and Carth kept watch down the corridor they'd come from.

"Done," the Zabrak said finally.

Bastila turned and gestured. An Ithorian emerged from the far cell, and Carth recognized him as Chodo's assistant, Moxa. Bastila gestured again, and a young man, looking slightly wild-eyed and wearing a restoration project jumpsuit, floated out of the near cell.

"A-Admiral?" he stammered. "What's going on?"

"We're getting out of here." He handed the young scientist the other stun baton he had stolen. The man looked down at it confused, then looked up at Carth again.

"Just get close to someone and press this button," Carth explained. He put a hand on the scientist's shoulder. "Don't worry," he said. "You probably won't even need it." He nodded toward where Bastila was helping the other scientist get shakily to his feet on the lip of the cell. The young man swallowed and nodded.

"Admiral!" Bao-Dur called from somewhere ahead.

Carth turned and jogged a little way past the cells. Bao-Dur stood in the doorway of a small storage room. His remote droid was zipping around in his head in quick circles, beeping happily.

Carth nodded at it. "Is that how you knew where you were going?"

Bao-Dur nodded. "I was following his signal." He gestured into the room. "Is this the equipment you've been missing?"

Carth walked into the room, glancing around. A lot of the equipment that had been reported missing was technical, and he wasn't sure he'd know it if he saw it, but a few pieces were still in clearly labeled crates. He felt his teeth clench.

"This is definitely some of it." His eyes landed on a long metal cylinder. He picked it up and held it in his hand. "And this definitely doesn't belong to Czerka," he said grimly. He turned back to Bao-Dur. "Does your droid have recording capabilities? We can't carry all of this back with us, but I don't want them to get rid of the evidence before we can get an official investigation down here."

"He never stops recording, Admiral," the mechanic responded. "He's made an extensive survey of the stolen equipment and also has footage of my abduction."

Carth felt a sudden surging feeling, and a wide grin broke across his face. "We've got 'em," he said. "We've finally got 'em."

The Zabrak nodded, and then maybe for the first time since Carth had met him, Bao-Dur smiled.

"Now let's get out of here," Carth said.

They headed back into the corridor where they found Bastila, Moxa, and the scientists waiting for them. Carth walked over to Bastila and handed her the metal cylinder. She held it for a moment, then twin yellow blades ignited from either end. She met his eyes, and hers seemed almost green in the yellow light.

"Thank you," she said.

He smiled. "No problem. Though you seemed to be doing pretty well without it."

Maybe it was just the glow of the lightsaber, but he thought she blushed slightly. "Perhaps this will stave off further confrontation."

Carth's smile spread into a grin. "Yeah. I doubt Tirse pays her guards enough to get in the way of that." He extended one hand down the corridor. "Lead the way."

Bastila guided them forward and led them to another set of cells where they found the two TSF officers Carth had brought with him.

"Is that everybody?" Carth asked Bastila as they got back on their way.

"I think so," she said. "I don't recognize any of the remaining presences."

"We've deactivated all of the cell force fields, Admiral," Bao-Dur said from behind them. "I checked the grid when I accessed the last panel."

Carth nodded. "Good. I don't want to leave anyone behind." He turned back to Bastila. "Can you lead us out?"

She nodded and continued confidently down the corridor. It was _definitely_ unfortunate for Czerka that they'd caught her. They'd either gone past the area where most of the guards were or the glowing lightsaber really was keeping them at bay because they didn't run into anyone else. They didn't see any more of Czerka's operation either. The detention and storage area seemed to be separate from any of the working sections of the compound. Carth tried not to be disappointed and told himself that it didn't matter anymore what they were doing. They were going to be shut down. They had to be.

Finally the corridor they were following started to slope upward. They came to a permacrete, bunker-style door and Bao-Dur bypassed the security lock easily. The door slid back, and for a moment Carth just stood on the threshold, staring. Except for the sparking yellow force fields, there was no way to tell you were in a restoration zone at all. A flat, black, barren wasteland reached right to the edges of the force field. Half-melted rubble hunched on the ground and stretched twisted limbs to the force field's false flickering light. The air stung his nostrils with faint traces of smoke and ozone, and dry grit assaulted his eyes. Even before the Ithorians had shown up, the Republic project had been able to salvage _something_. But this was…

This was how Telos had looked on that day.

"Carth," Bastila said softly beside him.

He shook his head, and his hands clenched into fists. "Yeah," he muttered. "Let's go."

Bastila led them back to the corridor that connected to the Republic's zone. No guards waited for them this time. As they passed through and stepped out among the waving grasses and gently sloping hills on the other side, Carth heard soft sighs of relief from the rest of the group.

"Admiral."

Carth turned to where Bao-Dur stood, examining the juncture of the two force fields—yellow and blue.

"I can disable the corridor," the mechanic said. "They wouldn't be able to come back through."

Carth nodded. "Do it."

He nodded to Bastila to lead the rest of the group on, but he waited behind while the Zabrak fiddled with the corridor mechanism. A smooth blue field sprang up to seal the archways at either end, then the yellow field that formed the walls of the corridor flickered and went out. An empty ten-meter stretch separated the two new fields. He nodded to Bao-Dur, then the two jogged to catch up with the others.

The TSF officers he'd sent to search the area were waiting at the shuttle, and they looked distinctly relieved when Carth and the others appeared. "We were about to send for back-up," one reported.

"No need," Carth said. "We're all on our way home." He grinned and caught the eye of the young officer who'd come with him to the Czerka zone. "See? Back before third shift."

The ride back to the station was tight, but they managed. Bastila was forced to squeeze in next to him and perch on the console that separated the pilot's seat from the co-pilot's seat. As they took off, she rested one hand on the back of his chair and leaned against it to steady herself; he could feel the warmth of her fingers through the fabric of his jacket and shirt. Despite being held hostage in a dank cave, she still smelled faintly of fresh flowers, and the memory of the acrid odor of the Czerka zone started to fade.

He glanced over at her, her eyes just inches away from his face, and smiled. "We've got 'em."

She smiled back. "Yes. I think we do."


	6. Chapter 6

Carth was catching up on paperwork in his apartment a few days later when there was a knock at his door. He went to answer it, and his mouth spread in a wide grin when he saw Bastila standing there.

"Hey, Bastila. Come on in." He stood aside and gestured for her to enter.

He slapped the door control, then turned to join her in the main room. "I just got word from the Senate committee," he said. "There's a hearing scheduled for two weeks from now. We're finally gonna kick Czerka out on their asses."

Bastila nodded and smiled, though it seemed a little forced under the circumstances. "That's wonderful, Carth."

"Yeah." A whim of an idea flashed through his brain, and he decided to act on it before he could change his mind. "I was going to go grab some dinner down at the cantina. You should come with me. We can toast seeing the back of Tirse Adana."

Bastila didn't really need to say anything. The expression of her face made it clear—she had something to say, and she didn't think he wanted to hear it. The tingles of nervous anticipation collapsed into a pang of disappointment. He hadn't thought about it much, and they certainly hadn't talked about it. There wasn't anything to talk about, really—a few shared smiles, a few light touches on the arm. But enough to make him wonder if maybe they…

But obviously not. He hadn't been sure she'd even noticed, but apparently she had if she looked this panicked over a simple dinner invitation.

She started to respond, but he held up his hands to forestall her. "Hey, don't worry about it. It's just dinner. No big deal."

She shook her head. "No, Carth, it's… it's not that." She seemed to take a deep breath. "Have you checked your messages recently?"

He frowned, scratching the back of his head. "A few hours ago. Why?"

She was looking somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. "The science panel is recommending that the project authorize a new restoration zone."

Carth felt his forehead furrow in confusion. "But that's… that's great. So why do you look like you're going to tell me my pet gizka died?"

Blue eyes finally met his. "They already have a site selected. One that had been up for consideration before. They believe it to be by far the most viable location on the planet's surface. So much so that it would seem administration approval is little more than a formality at this point."

She might have said more after that, but he didn't really hear it. He finally knew what she was trying to tell him. She was telling him that whether he was ready or not, the restoration project was going to dig up everything he'd tried so hard to bury, to pick at all the scabs that had just barely begun to heal over. He tried to say something, but he couldn't squeeze air past the lump in his throat, so it built up in his lungs until a deep ache spread from the center of his chest.

Bastila was gazing at him with that look. The look that was a mixture of compassion and pity and that went along with heads shaking and tongues clucking and muttered whispers of "that poor man."

In slow motion, her lips seems to part and he knew he couldn't stand to hear any expressions of sympathy or condolence. Not from her. He finally forced the breath out of his lungs with a whoosh.

"Right, so…" he croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Well, if there's going to be a new RZ, there's going to be a lot of paperwork. So I better catch up on all the paperwork I didn't do last time." He tried to give her a lopsided grin, but it felt more like a grimace. "Rain check on dinner, huh?"

"Of course," she said quietly. "Do you need any help?"

"No. No, I got it. Thanks."

He gestured vaguely toward the door, and she was gracious enough to take the hint. He walked her out, and she turned and paused on the threshold. Her hand brushed his shoulder in one of those light touches, but he felt nothing. Hesitantly, her hand slid down his arm, and when it reached his hand, she gave it a small squeeze. Then she turned and walked toward her apartment.

Carth slapped the door control, and after the door slid closed, he turned and leaned his back against it, letting his head drop. He forced himself to take deep breaths, to focus only on the air going in and out of his lungs.

Then he went into the kitchen, opened the cooling unit, grabbed a beer, and headed out to the couch in the main room. He sat for a long time, nursing his beer and old memories, until finally he just stretched out there and fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Carth could feel eyes on him. Blue eyes, he was sure, if he turned to look. But he didn't. He kept his own eyes glued to the shuttle seat in front of him. He wasn't even piloting. His hands were practically twitching in his lap, mimicking the movements of controls and navigation instruments. But he wasn't here as a pilot. He was here as the Fleet administrator for the Telos Restoration Project. Which meant not piloting, not barking out his displeasure at the subordinates, and not grinding his teeth. He was failing miserably at the last one.

He could just make out the words of the pilot and the lieutenant in charge of scouting the new RZ, who sat beside her in the copilot's seat. The lieutenant was young and new to the project. Ordinarily Carth would have found his enthusiasm refreshing. Today, here, he found it grating.

As if reading his mind, the lieutenant turned around in the copilot's seat and flashed him and the other passengers a grin. "Almost there, everyone. I think you're really going to like what you see."

Carth had never heard anyone be so wrong in his entire life.

The shuttle set down hard after a few rough jerks and bumps. There was no landing pad yet, so the pilot had to do the best she could, but Carth was sure he could have done better than that. The bitter, twisting part of him that was clenching in his jaw and churning in his stomach wanted to make a snide remark, but he held it in through sheer force of military discipline. Barely.

He just sat for a moment, still strapped into the seat with the safety harness, as the lieutenant went past and began chatting with Chodo and Grel Mofta, the head of the science advisory board. The pilot made no move to exit and instead began running routine diagnostics in preparation for running the departure sequence. Carth was tempted to stay right where he was and just watch, but then he heard the click of Bastila's harness and soft bootfalls on the deck. She stopped just next to his seat and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be off the shuttle. He unclipped the safety harness savagely with one hand, then jumped to his feet and marched past her and out the back hatch.

The air outside the shuttle still smelled acrid. The temporary shield shimmered blue a fair distance in all directions, but the ventilators had been operating at the lowest level of capacity. Since this was just a site inspection, the zone hadn't been given the full detox treatment. The churning in Carth's stomach intensified, and he swallowed the bile that threatened to choke him. He stared down at a spot about two feet in front of his boots. Even that spot was all charred ash, but it was better than looking around at the landscape. Better than seeing something familiar, than looking up and noticing a hill that he used to take Dustil sledding on or the dried remains of a pond where they used to float his model boats. Or seeing a path through the debris that mocked the curved avenue that led down to their neighborhood.

She was beside him again. Just… hovering. Maybe in another place at another time he might have recognized that she meant well. Here and now he just wanted not to look at her, not to talk to her, not to hear any words of sympathy or comfort that she might offer. There wasn't any comfort. Not in this place.

"Shall we begin?" he heard the lieutenant say brightly.

He began rattling off statistics and facts about the area—levels of moisture remaining in the soil and the air, patterns of seismic activity, the stability of geologic foundations. Carth wouldn't have understood most of it at the best of circumstances; right now the man might as well have been speaking Selkath. Carth tried to tune him out, but the man's cheerful voice droned on and on like a buzzing insect in his ears. It was occasionally interrupted by the deep fluid tones of Chodo or the nasal inflections of Grel, but the buzz always returned, more chipper than before. It grated in Carth's ears, boring into his brain and building up in a dull ache at the back of his skull.

The ache grew into a pounding that echoed the pulse in his ears. Eventually it overtook the droning lieutenant's voice and drowned it out. It should have been a relief, but it felt like his skull was being squeezed in a vice. The pounding spread from his skull and his ears and into a thudding down through his chest.

He jumped when he felt a light touch on his arm. Swinging his head up, all he could see was a pair of concerned blue eyes. They flicked away from him and toward where the droning had been coming from. Toward where the droning had stopped. Carth forced himself to follow her gaze to the lieutenant, who was staring at Carth and licking his lips nervously.

"What?" Carth ground out from between clenched teeth.

"I… I was just concluding my report, sir. I asked if you had any questions."

"No," Carth snapped. "I don't have any questions."

The lieutenant nodded uncertainly. "Then… you agree with the other administrators' assessment that this is a suitable site for restoration?"

Carth glanced toward Grel and Chodo. Grel was already squatting on the ground, picking up pinches of soil and rubbing them between two fingers while he muttered to himself. Chodo gazed back at Carth, calm radiating from behind his large eyes.

"If they've already signed off, then you don't need my approval," Carth said to the lieutenant. He managed to keep his voice steady and at least in the neighborhood of civil.

"Well, no," the lieutenant said, consulting his datapad and seeming to gain confidence from Carth's more even tone, "but I'd like to make it official, Admiral."

"I just said you don't need it," Carth barked, glaring at him. "We're done here."

He turned on his heel and stalked back to the shuttle, leaving shocked silence in his wake. He thought he heard Bastila's voice offer a few words to the lieutenant, but he was sure that he didn't want to know what those words were. He marched straight up the shuttle's loading ramp, ignoring the pilot who jumped to her feet from where she'd been lounging in her chair. He dropped back into his seat, strapped in, and stared purposefully at the metal plating beside him. The other passengers filed in silently, and the lieutenant gave the quiet order to lift off.

The shuttle ride back to the station took a short eternity. He was unstrapped before the hatch was fully open and walked off the edge of the ramp before it touched deck. Somewhere in his quarters was the unopened bottle of Corellian brandy Dustil had gotten him for his last Naming Day. His feet chartered him back to the residential module automatically, so he could focus exclusively on remembering where he'd put the alcohol.

The location came to him just outside the door to his apartment. As did the awareness that she'd been following him the whole way. He hadn't even noticed the bootheels clicking softly behind him. There was a soft sound, like a quiet inhalation of air before speech, and he quickly slapped the door panel. The door slid back, he stepped through, and hit the panel again. The only sound after that was the quiet hiss of the door sliding closed again.

He walked straight to the cabinet above the sink in the kitchen and pulled down the bottle of brandy.


	7. Chapter 7

_Carth stood behind the driver, one white-knuckled hand clutching the support bar that ran the length of the squad transport. It was twenty minutes from the base to the edge of the city. Carth knew the way so well he could drive it in his sleep. Or at least he could have on a normal day._

_This was not a normal day._

_Burning craters pocked the landscape on either side of the road and sometimes right in the middle of it. The driver weaved around them or over them when he had to, the transport rocking as it snagged on broken rock. The detours were taking too long. Carth's jaw clenched tighter; he felt a sharp sting, then tasted blood. He'd bitten right through his cheek._

"_Commander!"_

_He whirled around to the comm officer. "What is it?"_

"_Command wants us to reroute to a new destination."_

_Carth nodded and held out his hand. "You have new coordinates?"_

_The woman nodded and held out a datapad. Carth glanced at it, then made to hand it to his second-in-command, who was acting as navigator. In the time it took for him to extend the datapad, the contours of the map clicked into place. He snatched it back and stared at it again._

"_Commander?" Jordo's hand was still reached out, ready to take the datapad and plug it into the navigation computer._

_Carth swallowed and resisted the urge to close his eyes, to shut out the sight of the blinking red light that was their new destination. Instead, he handed the datapad wordlessly to Jordo._

_Jordo took it, a puzzled expression creasing his brow, an expression that changed to shock as he scanned the datapad. He looked at Carth over his shoulder. "Commander, we should tell Command to send another squad. We'll go on to the original point of engagement."_

"_Negative, Lieutenant."_

_Jordo looked at him for a long minute, then nodded and turned back to the computer. Carth stared straight ahead at the jagged road in front of them. The landscape blurred and spun, and in what seemed like a moment, they had arrived. Overturned speeders littered the parking area. The building was half-destroyed, collapsing in on itself like the carcass of that krayt dragon on Tatooine after they'd lured it out of the Star Map cave._

_The landscape blurred again, and Carth had to grip the support bar tighter to keep from tipping over. He shook his head and frowned. He'd… he'd never been to Tatooine. Had he? No matter how he shook his head, though, he couldn't push the image of the great beast's death throes from his mind._

_But then Jordo was standing next to him, clearing his throat. "Your orders, sir?"_

_Carth shook his head one last time. "Right." He turned to face the soldiers lining the sides of the transport. "Red Group, secure the perimeter. Green Group, assist with evac. And not just people. Gather as many supplies as you can. We're going to need those meds. Gold Group, we're on S and R."_

_Jordo leaned in closer to him. "Carth, maybe–"_

_Carth whirled on him. "That's Commander Onasi, Lieutenant," he snapped. "And if you have any complaints, save them until after we have a perimeter."_

_Jordo looked at him for a long moment, then saluted and signaled for his group to follow him. As they jumped down off the transport, Carth watched Jordo march away, knowing he wouldn't see him again until… Why did looking at Jordo make him think of trees? Tall trees, kilometers high?_

_Carth forced himself to look at the building again, to regain his focus. The sign over the main entrance still glowed. Northwest Medical Complex._

_He was in a dark corridor. Jatson and Taldine followed close behind him, their glow sticks held like weapons. With all the sparking wires and shifting debris, blasters were too dangerous. They wouldn't find ground troops anyway. A Sith commander wouldn't fire like this if Sith troops were on the surface. Carth's hand gripped his light so hard the knuckles cracked. Not some nameless Sith commander. Saul. Saul wouldn't fire like this if Sith troops were on the surface._

_There was the sudden scrape of boots on loose dirt from in front of them, and Carth signaled for Jatson and Taldine to stop. The dim spheres of light that surrounded them came to a halt._

"_Hello?" a quavering voice called. "Is someone there?"_

_Carth stepped forward into an intersection with another corridor. Down the hallway to his right, a middle-aged man caked in dirt and grime stood leaning against a half-ruined wall. Sweat streaked the dirt on his face, and he was panting heavily._

"_Thank the Force," he gasped. "My leg…"_

_Carth looked down at the blood puddling under the shredded pant leg. Even in the faint light, he could see the glint of bone._

"_Taldine, this man needs immediate evac."_

_The woman nodded, then stepped forward and offered the man her shoulder. He draped his arm over her, and she began to half-carry him back the way they had come. Carth nodded to Jatson, and they started further down the corridor._

"_Wait!" the man suddenly said. Carth turned to where Taldine had stopped. "There was a doctor… a woman… trying to help me. The ceiling came down. Nearly crushed us both."_

_An icy fist of fear gripped Carth's heart. Which was ridiculous. Hundreds of doctors worked in this complex, more than half of them women. Her office was on the other side of the building. They'd passed a hallway sign that read "Neurology." She wouldn't have been in the Neurology Department._

"_Where?" he heard himself say._

_The man pointed down the corridor he'd emerged from. "Maybe… maybe twenty meters that way."_

_Carth turned in the direction the man indicated, moving at a quick march. There was no need to run. Plus, it would be dangerous. The floor could give out or… He sped up just slightly, to a reasonable jog. Jatson's boots echoed hollowly behind him._

_The debris pile was large, but it didn't fill the corridor. If the man hadn't been injured, he probably could have shifted it by himself, given enough time. Carth and Jatson could have it cleared in minutes. Carth stood for a moment, analyzing how the debris had fallen, where the most likely air pockets were. He pointed to one spot, and Jatson stepped forward and began carefully pulling aside large chunks of ceiling tile. Carth moved to the other end of the pile and began shifting a broken light fixture._

"_This is Republic Fleet Commander Carth Onasi. Can anyone hear me?" he called out._

_There was no response. He had pulled most of the light fixture free, and stepping carefully around the broken glass, he started to tug at the twisted remains of a surgical gurney. As he pushed the metal out of the way, his light swept over a small, pale object. He focused the beam on it. It took him a few seconds to realize he was looking at a hand, the fingers broken and bloody, the torn scraps of a surgical glove still clinging in tatters._

_The ice around Carth's heart spread to his lungs, and for a second, he couldn't breathe, couldn't call out to the other soldier. The Rock. That was what the other surgeons called her. Because her hands were so steady. She'd have to pick another specialty. She could do it. Of course, she could do it; she was that good. But she'd be devastated. He'd have to find some way to stay around. He couldn't leave her to deal with that and Dustil and…_

"_J-Jatson," he finally managed. "Jatson! Get a medic!"_

_The other soldier appeared from behind the debris, saluted, and ran off the way they'd come. Carth scrambled toward the hand. He bent down when he reached it, sliding a little in the loose rubble, and fumbled for the wrist. The pulse was weak, thin. His eyes scanned the pile. But that was because… she'd have other injuries. Of course she'd have other injuries. Broken legs maybe. She was in shock._

"_I'm coming, Ana. Don't worry. I'm here."_

_His hands shook as he cleared away pieces of insulation and more ceiling tiles. She'd laugh at him when he told her. Good thing she was the surgeon, she'd say. Dustil would laugh and even Carth would break into a broad grin at his own expense. He'd shrug, then kiss her hand and muss Dustil's hair and silently thank the Force that they were all together again._

_Her face emerged slowly, black with soot. He couldn't see, didn't want to see if there was blood. Her hair was hidden beneath a surgeon's cap, strangely still intact; not a blonde wisp had escaped. He fumbled with the medpac strapped to his waist and injected pure kolto into her neck. But he couldn't stop to wait for the pink to return to pale cheeks. He continued to push tile and rubble off her chest, his hands brushing over her breasts without any of the usual thrill. She'd laugh at him for that, too. She'd…_

_The thick metal bar was lodged just beneath her ribcage on the left side. The dirt around it was a sticky, rust-colored mud. He had to… he had to what? Leave the bar in. It would stop the bleeding. But he couldn't get pressure on the wound like that. No way to use a tourniquet. His mind raced but came up blank again and again. He was no doctor. That was his wife. His brilliant, talented, funny, beautiful wife._

_He crawled forward toward her head again. Dirty hands went to dirty cheeks. He brushed one hand to her forehead and the surgeon's cap finally came loose. A lock of golden hair spilled out, completely clean and shining in the dim light._

"_Ana?" he murmured softly, as if they were at home and she'd fallen asleep reading medical journals on the couch. "Ana, wake up. You have to tell me what to do."_

_He felt for her pulse at her neck. When he couldn't find it, he tried again. And again. His hands raced down to her chest to cover her heart. Then finally he had it, just barely. He drew cold breath into lungs burning with ice, but then the chill sank to his gut. Aside from the barely perceptible, uneven beat, her chest wasn't moving._

"_Medic!" he bellowed._

_His ears strained for the sound of bootsteps as he bent over her. He pinched her nose, tilted her head back, and breathed into her open mouth. Let the breath out. Breathe in again. Listen for breathing. Pinch the nose. Tilt the head back. Breathe in. Let it out. Breathe in. Listen for breathing._

"_Medic!" he shouted again._

_He felt for the beat in her chest and found nothing. Nothing at her neck. Nothing at her wrist. He ripped away her shirt, his straining ears registering the tiny pings as the buttons joined the pile of medical debris. He clasped his hands together, one on top of the other, and pressed straight-armed between her breasts. He wanted to shout for the medic again, but he might lose count. He couldn't lose count. Couldn't lose focus. Couldn't…_

"_Medic!" he choked, his voice breaking on the second syllable._

_He jumped at the hand that touched his arm, and he snapped his head to look up at his wife's face. Blue eyes smiled at him._

"_It's all right, Carth. Everything's all right."_

_He swallowed. His tongue felt thick and sticky. "A-ana…?"_

_Blue eyes turned sad, the color fading to a lighter, warmer shade of blue._

"Carth, you need to wake up."

Carth jumped again, jerking away from the hand on his shoulder and cracking his head against the headboard of his bed. Bastila winced and reached out to help him, but he shrugged her off. He pushed himself up to sitting, rubbing at the dull ache that had joined the throbbing beginnings of a massive hangover. His throat was raw, and his stomach churned. His eyes were burning.

"Bastila…" he croaked, squinting at her in what seemed like bright light to him. He cleared his throat. "What…? How did you get in here?"

She looked away from his gaze, and he thought he saw a faint blush tint her cheeks. "I used the Force on your door panel. You may need a new one."

"Oh," he sighed. His hand swept forward through his hair and rubbed over his face. It came away shaking and damp with sweat.

He really needed a drink.

He glanced around half-heartedly for his shirt, then gave it up and snapped the covers back. He was wearing pants and if that wasn't enough to satisfy her Jedi modesty, then she'd just have to leave. He rose from the bed and shouldered past her into the main room. The brandy bottle and glass were still sitting on the table. The bottle was more than half empty, but it had more than enough left.

He snagged the bottle in one hand and the glass in the other and walked over to the couch, weaving slightly on the way. He dropped down heavily, poured a drink, and drained it in one swallow.

"I'm not certain that is the best way to handle the situation," Bastila said softly from the bedroom doorway.

He looked up at her. Brown hair fell loosely over her shoulders. She held her Jedi robe closed at her waist, and the fabric just brushed the tops of her bare feet.

"I'm not certain that it's any of your business," he replied, but it was without anger.

"Perhaps not."

She stepped forward and walked a graceful path around the furniture to join him on the couch. She sat down primly on the edge, then turned to him, her hands outstretched.

"May I?"

It took a moment for his sleep-addled brain to realize that she wanted the bottle and glass. One of his eyebrows shot up, causing a momentary stab of pain along his pounding scalp, but he handed them to her wordlessly.

She poured a dainty sip into the glass, then raised it to her lips. Instead of swallowing immediately, she held it in her mouth too long and began to splutter. She finally swallowed with some effort. She coughed a few discreet coughs, but her cheeks instantly flamed brighter and tears brimmed in her eyes.

"That," she said after a moment, "is vile." She set the glass and bottle on the table, then placed a hand on her stomach. "But the aftereffect is… not unpleasant."

Carth let his head drop back against the sofa cushions and let his eyes slide closed. "Yeah," he said, rubbing his forehead with one hand. "It's the aftereffect of the aftereffect you have to watch out for."

He felt her shift closer to him on the couch, and he stiffened slightly as one cool hand came to rest on his bare chest. The cool, tingling wave that swept over him tangled with the warmth that filled him at her touch. The wave slowly receded, taking his headache with it, but the warmth lingered. So did her hand.

He opened his eyes and raised his head slowly. Concerned blue eyes met his gaze. After a long moment, she moved to shift away again, but he caught her hand in his as it came off his chest.

Something about her wrist caught his eye. He'd noticed it before, but never really looked at it. He leaned forward to study it. A thick band of unnaturally shiny skin encircled the wrist. It took him a moment to place what it reminded him of.

It reminded him of a burn scar.

"What is this?" he murmured, still gazing at the hand resting lightly in his own.

Carth heard her sigh and looked up to meet her eyes. "Malak… employed metal restraints. When he used Force lightning…"

Carth's mouth fell open slightly, and he gaped at her. Her voice was so emotionless. But the thought of the metal heating, burning until the white heat seared her delicate flesh…

He snatched up her other hand and found an identical scar. His eyes followed the drape of her robe to the bare feet, and he guessed he'd find similar scars on her ankles.

He turned his eyes back to her face. "Where else?"

"My… hips," she said slowly, still looking down at her hands. "And… across my…" She trailed off, but one of her hands floated up to rest just above the swell of her breasts.

A surge of rage washed over him, and his grip on her other hand tightened. Her expression was sad but resigned. It reminded him that it was an impotent rage. Malak was already dead. There was no more enemy to fight.

"Is that what you dream about?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "No." Then she shook it again. "Well, yes. Sometimes. But not when I…" She sighed. "As I told you, the other… dreams aren't actually dreams. They are visions."

"Visions?" Carth asked. "Like the ones you and Revan had of the Star Maps?"

"In a way, though not exactly. It's difficult to explain."

He held her gaze with his and began to lightly run his thumb over the back of her hand. Her skin was even softer than he'd imagined. "Try."

The resignation in her eyes weakened slightly as a new emotion entered. Maybe fear. "I see… what would have happened if Revan had accepted my offer at the Temple."

Carth let out a loud breath. "It's bad?"

Her eyes dropped away from his again. "We… we kill Jolee and Juhani atop the temple," she said quietly. "Then we find the _Ebon Hawk_ on the beach."

She was silent for several long moments. "You kill the crew," he said. She nodded, and he held her hand more securely.

"You kill me."

She shook her head, and his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"You… escape," she explained

"I run?" The laugh he forced out sounded harsh even to him. Of course he ran. He was never there when someone needed him. "Not very heroic of me," he said bitterly.

But she was shaking her head again. "You… appear on the Star Forge. After Revan defeats Malak. You try to talk to us, convince us to come with you."

His eyebrows raised again, but he nodded slowly. "I think I get the idea."

Bastila suddenly looked up at him, blue eyes intense. "No, you don't. Revan orders me to kill you, and I do it gladly. _Would _have done it gladly."

Carth shook his head stubbornly. "But you didn't."

She pulled away from him then, snatching her hand from his and standing. She turned away, clutching her robe tightly around her. "You don't understand."

He leaned back on the couch, looking up at her and crossing his arms over his chest. "So make me understand."

She sighed, still turned away from him. "I do it. In the visions. Every night I have them, I kill you. And the others. And I… revel in it," she said, revulsion twisting her words.

He pushed himself to his feet and came to stand in front of her. "Bastila, you… you can't know what you sound like when you…" He shook his head. Despite all the times he'd heard her cry out in the night, despite the comfort he offered that had become almost routine, the sound itself still made him shiver. "You're not reveling," he said firmly.

Blue eyes met his gaze with something like sympathy. Like there was a sad truth that he wasn't facing. "No. No, of course not. When I cry out in my sleep, it is because the visions show me my inevitable death at Revan's hands." She looked away from him again. "Carth, I do not cry out when I see myself killing you. If you could hear me then, you'd hear me laughing."

He stared at her. "Bastila, that's… come on. That… that's not how it is."

She turned back to him, her gaze eerily calm. "Indeed? Have you ever entered my apartment before I cried out?"

"Well, no, but…" He was trying to wrap his brain around it. Could someone do that? Could someone feel such different things between night and day? Could she be a different person in her dreams?

And if so, what the hell were the Masters thinking in sending her to him?

He floundered, flailing for words. He'd known he was out of his depth, but he'd had no idea how far from shore he really was.

She was gazing at him. "It's all right, Carth. I understand if you're afraid."

He met her eyes. "I'm not…" He sighed. "Okay, yeah, that scares me." Despite her words, her shoulders stiffened slightly and he saw her jaw clench. "Am I thrilled that you're having dreams or visions or whatever of being a Sith while we're holed up on a satellite station with a bunch of innocent people? No, I'm not."

She started to turn away, but he grabbed her arm. "I can't help it. I'm a practical guy. Bastila, I'm a soldier, and objectively, if you laid out the scenario for me that you just laid out and told me to make a tactical assessment, I'd say it's an unacceptable risk and a huge liability."

She tried to tug away from him, but he just held her arm tighter. "It's all right, Carth," she said again. "I understand."

"No, you really don't." He sighed. "What I'm saying is that I'm not objective when it comes to you. I trust you, Bastila. Not just with my life, but with the lives of everyone on this station."

And suddenly he understood what the Masters had done. Why she was really here. It wasn't a punishment or a test or a chance to heal. It was a show of faith. They knew what she was going through, and they sent her on a mission anyway. A mission with hundreds of innocent lives at stake. But only hundreds. Citadel Station was isolated, a perfect ground for their experiment. That thought made him clench his teeth and he would have words with Master Vandar about that, but it didn't change the fact that he did trust her.

She was staring at him again. "Carth, you… you can't be serious. Now that you know the truth, you can't possibly allow me to stay here."

He shrugged, trying to make the gesture more casual than it felt around the tension in his shoulders. "Why not?"

"Because it's not safe!" she burst out. "Surely you see that?"

He shook his head. "Bastila, I don't know what you think us non–Force users feel when you Jedi are around, but it's not safe. Grateful, definitely. Protected, yeah. But if you think we're ever not wary, that we don't know that we might someday need protecting from the protectors, then you haven't paid any attention to recent galactic history."

There was a twisting feeling in his chest when he saw tears spring up in her eyes. "Then you… you have always been afraid of me?"

He put his other hand on her other shoulder and forced her to meet his gaze. "I just finished explaining why you're a special case," he said softly. "And it's not fear, exactly. It's more like… like being wary, like I said. And the more Jedi I get to know, the less wary I get. Which… I don't know… maybe that's naïve or dangerous, but it's true."

Without a conscious thought, his hand seemed to float up and come to rest against her cheek. "I'm not afraid of you, Bastila. I guess I'm just saying that I get it now. What a… what a struggle it is for you." His thumb was caressing her cheek. "But I trust absolutely that you'll win that struggle."

She gazed at him for a long moment, a strange mixture of wonder and apprehension and… and maybe hope on her face. Then something seemed to close behind her eyes, and she pulled away from his hands. She turned and walked a few steps away from him, and he stifled a sigh.

"I'm afraid I don't share your trust."

Carth suddenly felt bone-tired. He took the few steps back to the couch and dropped down heavily. He reached for the bottle of brandy, twisted off the cap, and poured himself another drink. "You're going to have to forgive yourself eventually, Bastila."

She turned to look at him, and her eyes fell with disapproval on the drink in his hand. "Indeed? You mean forgive myself as you have done?"

The glass froze halfway to his lips. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"I see," she said coolly. "While we dissect my visions to their deepest core, we're going to continue to pretend that you have made peace with your past and have nothing more on your mind than the administrative details of this station."

He spluttered for a reply, but she cut him off with a tart shake of her head. "Forgive me. I had thought perhaps we were over that game. But it appears I was mistaken."

He slammed the glass down on the table and shot to his feet. "Look, sister," he snapped, "no one asked you to come in here tonight."

Her hands went to her hips. "At least I didn't show up with an armed TSF squad."

"You… that's…" His brain searched for the way that his case was different from hers. He knew it was, he was just too flustered to think of how at the moment. Anyway, that didn't matter. "I'm not… it's… it's over for me. Saul's dead. It's over." He snapped his mouth shut before he could repeat it again, before he could give in to the temptation to chant it over and over like a mantra.

Bastila's hand left her hips, and her expression softened. It looked like… sympathy. Whatever it was it made his jaw and hands clench. She stepped toward him, slowly, maybe hesitantly. "Carth, you… you said your wife's name. You were calling out for a medic in your sleep. On the surface today…"

His hand swept across his body in a curt gesture. "I don't want to talk about the surface today."

"Carth…"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" He glared at her, but he could see all her anger, all her snappishness was gone and had left only that damn sympathy or compassion or whatever the frack it was.

Her chin rose slightly. "I'm afraid I can't accept that answer."

He just gaped at her, his anger lost in shock. "I… you…" He shook his head, annoyance replacing the anger. "You know, I once told Revan she was the most damned persistent woman I ever met, but I'm starting to think she doesn't hold a candle to you."

"It is part of the Jedi training. We are encouraged to be single-minded in our duty."

Carth snorted but for some reason he couldn't meet her eyes. He stared down at his feet instead. "Duty, huh? And who told you it was your duty to harass me?"

He felt her move closer to him, until she was close enough to lay a hand on his shoulder and he could feel her warmth radiating over his bare arms. He was suddenly very conscious of the fact that he hadn't bothered to find his shirt.

"Carth, I don't pretend to understand what you've been through. How could I? But if you… trust me as you say you trust me, then help me to try to understand."

"You… it's not… dammit," he muttered. He pulled away from her hand and wandered back to the couch but didn't sit. His thoughts tangled and untangled with memories and words and half-forgotten dreams. "This project," he said finally. "This restoration. It's a joke."

There was a long moment of silence. "You don't believe that."

He looked up at her with the same regretful, sad smile she'd given him. Like she couldn't face the truth. "Don't I? You can't just… you can't just grow a few plants and pile up a few rocks and say it's the same. We can't put it back the way it was. And I'm starting to think maybe… maybe we shouldn't try."

"Why not?" Her voice was soft and gentle and kind. And so fracking naïve.

"It's like…" He turned back to look at her. "It's like when you found that holocron of your father on Tatooine. It wasn't like having him back, was it?"

Bastila's brow furrowed. "No, of course not."

"Because he's gone," Carth said. "You can't ever have him back. He's gone forever and you'll never…" He trailed off around the sudden lump in his throat and turned his suddenly burning eyes away from her. "I came here," he continued after a long moment, "because I wasn't here before. Because I wasn't here for… her. It was supposed to be… I was supposed to be… paying for what I'd done."

"You have nothing to pay for, Carth," she said quietly.

"Don't I?" he asked. If he could have mustered the energy, it might have sounded bitter. "I wasn't here for her then, and I'm not… I'm not here for her now. Not really. Not anymore."

"You…" Bastila began hesitantly. "You feel guilty for starting to let her go?"

He closed his eyes. "How can we rebuild?" he said in a husky voice. He turned to her then, desperately, like she would really have an answer. "We shouldn't want to, should we? How can we go on with our lives like this? How can we…?"

"Move on?" she finished quietly.

He nodded blindly, and he felt more than saw Bastila move toward him. "Carth, rebuilding Telos doesn't mean forgetting it was ever destroyed. It doesn't mean forgetting the way it used to be, or the people who lived and died here. Rebuilding means… rediscovering and re-creating what they lived for."

She let out a soft sigh. "I am glad I found my father's holocron. And I am glad my mother had it when she… It was not him, and yes, in some ways, it made the pain more difficult to bear, but it reminded me of all I loved about him.

"Memories are a double-edged sword, Carth. They bring us the illusion of being back in a moment without ever allowing us to actually be there."

"Then maybe it's better not to remember at all," Carth murmured.

"I think Revan would argue with you on that," Bastila said softly. "Some of her memories wounded her deeply and haunt her still, but she remembered other things as well. Good memories of a life before the shadow." Her hand was on his shoulder again. "Would you destroy the beach, Carth? Would you take back that beautiful place that you helped create? Would you sacrifice that to avoid facing what you faced on the surface today?"

He closed his eyes, and he could almost feel the breeze, the way his boots sank into the soft sand. The sound of the waves and the whispering grasses. "No," he said quietly. "But it hurts. Even there."

"I think that as we get older, all joy is tempered by grief. Or by the knowledge of how fleeting it is. But if we don't embrace the bittersweet, we will never taste any sweetness at all."

He glanced at her then, one side of his mouth lifting in a half-smile he didn't really feel. "When you talk like that, you sound like you're older than Jolee."

She gave him a small smile. "Sorry," she said. "Bad Jedi habit."

He tried to laugh, but it came out more as a throaty sigh. "Bastila… about before. When we got back. When I…" He gestured toward the door. "Shutting you out like that was rude. I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "There's no need to apologize, Carth."

"Yeah," he said, letting out another loud breath. "Yeah, there is. You're right. I've been pushing you for all these weeks, trying to get you to let go of your past, and then when things got turned around, I shot you down."

She smiled. "We have neither of us been forthcoming. I'm afraid it's not a part of either of our natures to accept help willingly. Though we seem more than willing to force our assistance on others."

He did laugh then, running a hand through his hair. "You noticed that, huh? We're quite a pair."

She was still smiling slightly, but the expression in her eyes had turned serious. She met his gaze for a long moment, then looked down at her hands clasped in front of her. "You have helped me, Carth. A great deal."

He stepped toward her. "I… I wish I could do more." He shook his head. "If I knew how to make the nightmares stop…"

Her eyes came up to his again. "I know," she said softly. A slight smile lifted her lips again for a moment, then it faded into a sigh. "But I think perhaps I am meant to find the answer on my own."

"Come to Coruscant with me," he said suddenly, the words leaving his mouth almost before he was aware of speaking.

Her brow furrowed, and her mouth opened and closed for a moment without any words coming out. "To what end?" she said finally.

_Good question_.

"Let's just… get away from here," he said finally. "I'll meet with the Senate committee, you can meet with the Council if you want, and then we can… I don't know… see the sights. Or at least have dinner," he added when she continued to look skeptical.

She just looked at him for a moment longer. "I… yes. All right. Meeting with the Council at this point would probably be wise."

Not exactly the most enthusiastic answer, but he felt the weight that had settled over his chest on the surface start to lighten. "All right, then. Great. I'll, uh… I'll make the arrangements. We'll leave on tomorrow night's shuttle."

She was looking at the carpet again, and she just nodded and started to walk toward the door. But when she got there, she turned and offered him a hesitant smile and a warmly murmured "good night." The look in her eyes did a lot more than the brandy had to chase away bad memories.


	8. Chapter 8

Carth let his feet guide him down the familiar path to the beach as his thoughts wandered and his lips muttered the words of the testimony he had to give in front of the Senate committee. He tried to keep his mind focused, but just thinking about it made his stomach churn and his mouth go dry. He wasn't a politician, and speaking before a Senate committee was definitely not his strength. But he was determined to see Tirse Adana and the rest of Czerka off Telos, and if that meant stammering and stuttering and embarrassing himself in front of some of the most powerful people in the galaxy, so be it.

It didn't help that the words of his carefully practiced testimony kept getting mixed up in his head with the conversation he and Bastila had had the night before. Somewhere in the middle of practicing, a pair of blue eyes always seemed to interrupt him. Two pairs of blue eyes, really. He sighed and gave up on the testimony. He had a whole shuttle ride to Coruscant to practice it.

A ride to Coruscant with Bastila by his side. The impulse to invite her had popped out of his mouth before it had even fully formed in his head, but he wasn't sorry. In fact, when she'd agreed to come, it had sent a thrill through him like he didn't remember feeling in a couple decades. He didn't know what would happen, but even the possibility of… of _something_ excited him.

Which led to a small knot of guilt that had settled deep in his gut. He shook his head. He knew Morgana, had known her like he'd never known anyone else. They'd even talked about it once. But only once, when she was pregnant with Dustil. She'd just casually thrown it out there during dinner one night—how if anything happened to her during labor, he should find someone else, someone who could be a good mother to their son and a good partner for him. He'd stared at her, fork halfway to his mouth, flabbergasted at her calm eyes and matter-of-fact speech full of medical jargon and statistics. Then he'd dropped the fork and pulled her into his arms and sworn that he would never let anything happen to her.

His feet suddenly stopped on the path as a knife of grief stabbed through him. Five years and still sometimes it hit him like it was just yesterday. That trick of memory Bastila had mentioned—putting you there without letting you change a damn thing. He sighed again and rubbed at the blurriness in his eyes with one hand.

When he pulled his hand away, he realized he was standing at the end of the path, just above where the beach began. He also realized that there was a figure on the beach, made blurry and small by distance. He frowned in annoyance and squinted, trying to see who had invaded his private sanctuary. Something in the figure's posture seemed slightly odd, sort of… stiff, but familiar. A Jedi's meditation posture.

The churning worry over his testimony and the knot of guilt were joined by a warm, nervous feeling that made him grin stupidly. The nearly forty-year-old admiral in him shook his head at himself, but still the grin remained. Until that other pair of blue eyes floated up in his mind. The grin faded, but he kept his eyes locked on the figure in the sand.

"I'd give anything if you could come back again," he murmured quietly to the wind whipping up from the lake. He looked up at the pale blue Telosian sky. "But you can't, can you? If you could, you'd be here. I know you," he said, with a small half-grin.

His eyes traveled down the line of wispy clouds back to the figure on the beach. "I know what you'd say about this, too. You'd say stop standing here, talking to yourself." And she would have. He knew it deep in his bones, the way he'd known her. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see her, shaking her head, maybe a little sadly, but smiling too. He almost felt small hands push his shoulder, and one foot actually took a step forward to sink into soft sand.

He turned back to glance over his shoulder as if she really would be standing there, smiling at him. His vision blurred again. "I love you," he said quietly.

Then he turned and began to walk down to the beach. The nervousness, the worry, and the guilt still floated somewhere in the back of his mind, but a soft sort of certainty filled him too. He didn't know what would happen, but whatever did, it would be all right.

He was still several yards away, his feet silent in the sand, when Bastila turned to face him and he grinned at her, shaking his head.

"There's no way to sneak up on a Jedi, is there?" he asked.

She smiled. "Not a good Jedi, no."

He laughed. "I'll remember that." He sat on the sand beside her, leaning back on his hands and stretching his boots out toward the shining water. The sun was beginning to sink, its lower edge just resting on the distant opposite shore. "All set for tomorrow's trip?"

"Yes," she said, looking back over the water. The slight breeze whipped tendrils from her ponytail, and she reached up with one hand to smooth them behind her ear. The unconscious grace and femininity of the gesture transformed the nervous tingling in his stomach to something warmer.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then turned to him with a frown. "Is something wrong?"

His eyes snapped from the smooth skin where her hairline met her neck to meet her gaze. "Uh, no." He cleared his throat. "Why?"

She continued to gaze at him with intense blue eyes. "You seemed to be…" Then she shook her head. "Am I needed back on station?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Huh? I… oh. No." He gestured toward the lake and where the setting sun was adding a golden tint to the waves. "I just came down to… I don't know. Say good-bye, I guess," he said a little sheepishly. "I'll miss this place while we're gone." It suddenly occurred to him that he had joined her completely uninvited, and he sat forward, brushing the sand from his hands. "And I interrupted your meditation or… whatever. I can come back later."

Her hand on his arm stopped him from starting to rise. He froze in an awkward half-crouch as she gazed up at him with eyes shaded warmer by the golden light.

"No," she said, her soft voice floating in the stillness around them. "Please stay."

Carth had to swallow around a sudden tightness in his throat. "I…" he said huskily. He cleared his throat again and resettled on the sand. "Thanks," he finished, congratulating himself on the almost completely normal tone of his voice.

They sat in a moment of long silence, their eyes locked and her hand still on his arm. He was just barely formulating the thought of working himself up to… to _something_ when she pulled her hand back and turned to look out at the water. He inwardly berated himself for his slow reaction, resisting the urge to shake his head in disappointment.

"Were you… you know, meditating?" he asked instead.

She smiled slightly, and he was surprised again at how much a slight upturning of her lips softened her features. She looked older in profile. For some reason, that made him feel less nervous.

"In a manner of speaking," she said. "I think I more came to… say good-bye, as you said. There is peace to be found here." Her head bowed almost imperceptibly. "As much as one can find peace in any place."

He felt a stab in his chest at the small note of sadness in her words. She'd had the nightmare—or vision or whatever it was—almost every night of the past week. Every time she did, it got harder for him to resist the urge to wrap her in his arms until she stopped shaking.

He watched the light and shadow exchange places on her face as she looked up into the setting sun again. "It seems to me that peace isn't a place you get to," he said, "but something you make."

Bastila turned to him, eyebrows arched in surprise.

"What?" Carth asked.

"Master Vandar expressed an identical sentiment before I came here," she said quietly. "Your words often echo those of the Masters, despite your claims that you lack an understanding of the Force."

Carth laughed. "Like I said on Dantooine, you pick up a few things."

She shook her head. "You underestimate yourself."

He snorted. "Look who's talking."

One delicate eyebrow arched again. "I beg your pardon?"

He turned toward her completely then, moving closer on the sand. The tendrils pulled loose again, and he reached up to push them back. His hand lingered against her cheek, his thumb lightly brushing her jawline. "You'll get through this, Bastila," he said softly. "I know you."

Golden light washed over her pale skin and painted her eyes. For once, she didn't pull away and she didn't avert her gaze. They both just sat, motionless, for a long moment, the sound of the waves and the wind in the grass the only indication that time hadn't stopped completely. Then he leaned forward and touched his lips against hers.

For a fraction of a second, he could feel the tension in her body, and then somehow she was in his arms and they were both letting the moment be everything it should be.

Then a memory returned. A different pair of blue eyes, a different kiss. The same beach. This beach. Or this beach as it had been.

He broke the kiss and his eyes flicked to the bluff path. It was already half in shadow.

"It…" he heard his voice croak. "It's getting late."

Despite hearing the words, he still didn't quite believe they'd come out of his mouth until his eyes went back to her. She hadn't moved, but for just a second, the hurt was plain on her face.

Then her expression smoothed over into Jedi serenity. "Of course," she murmured as she pulled away from him and rose smoothly. "We don't wish to miss our shuttle."

He scrambled to his feet, just barely catching her wrist as she turned to walk up the beach.

"No. Bastila… Dammit, wait."

She paused, her arm hanging motionless in his hand and her head turned away.

"Bastila, I don't know if… Just tell me if…" He let out a loud sigh and ran the other hand through his hair. Then he reached out and pulled her closer to him. She looked up at him, her features still painted golden but her eyes cool once more.

"I want this to… be something, Bastila," he said. "I do," he added fervently when the look in her eyes didn't change. He cleared his throat. "And I'm hoping that you do, too." His eyes jumped to her hairline. If the answer was no, he couldn't bear to see it in her eyes. And if it was yes, he didn't want to see the hurt there again. Hurt that he had caused.

"But here… this place… it's…" He sighed. "If… if this… you and I… if this is something, then… I don't want it to be about the past. About forgetting or… or rebounding or… hell, I don't know." He sighed again. "I want it to be about you and me."

He knew he must sound like an idiot, but curiosity got the best of him and his gaze dropped down to her eyes again. The deepening shadows were making it harder to read her face, but he thought she looked… thoughtful.

Then after a short eternity, she nodded. She turned to look back over the darkening water. "We really should return to the station."

His heart sank. "Bastila…"

"I think I understand, Carth," she said softly, still looking over the water. Then she turned back to look at him, a small smile playing across her lips, and she tentatively reached up to smooth back the strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. "But if you are willing, I think I'd like to continue this on Coruscant."

Relief didn't seem like a good enough word to cover what he felt. He couldn't have stopped the grin that crossed his face if his life depended on it. "You got it."


	9. Chapter 9

They'd arrived at the shuttle just in time. It was an overnight flight, and Carth had split the time between going over his testimony, trying to sleep, and sneaking glimpses of Bastila dozing in the seat across the narrow aisle from his. She'd been worried she might have the vision during the trip, but she'd slept peacefully, her legs curled up beneath her, covered by a thin blanket that rose and fell with her quiet breathing.

Carth hadn't gotten much work done. Or much sleep either. The hotel had sent a transport for him, and they'd dropped Bastila off at the Temple on the way. She'd wished him good luck, her fingers brushing lightly over his. Then she was climbing the steps up to the Temple entrance.

Senator Jev Seret of Citadel Station had been waiting at the hotel when he'd arrived. He'd unapologetically ambushed Carth, and even Carth acknowledged it was his own fault. He came to Coruscant far less frequently than he probably should have, but every time he started to feel guilty about it, he reminded himself that his real work was on Citadel Station. He still paid the price every time he stepped foot in the capital though. Jev was a good man, and he sympathized with Carth's lack of enthusiasm for the political side of the project, but that didn't stop him from trapping Carth in two days of endless meetings about budgets and schedules. Still, it was his job. Carth had to respect him for doing it.

But when there was a knock at the door of his suite's sitting room early the morning of the committee hearing, he inwardly groaned. Outwardly, he merely called, "Come on in."

The aide Jev had lent Carth poked his head into his room. "Sir? Your son and another Jedi are here to see you."

Carth couldn't hold back the smile that spread across his face or the buzz of excitement that bubbled up in his gut. "Did the Jedi give a name?"

His aide consulted the datapad in his hand. "Jolee Bindo, sir."

The bubble burst, and Carth tried not to let his disappointment show on his face. "Of course. Show them in."

The aide stepped out into the living room, and a smile broke across Carth's face despite his disappointment. It had been at least four months since he'd last seen his son, and he hadn't been sure he'd get to see Dustil at all, given the Order's feelings about family ties. Carth had a feeling he had Jolee to thank for arranging the visit.

Two robed figures entered the room, and Carth's smile dropped into an open-mouthed stare. Jolee was grinning at him and shaking his head, but Carth's eyes traveled over his son. Dustil looked back at him almost shyly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck in a familiar gesture of embarrassment. He brought his hand down, and it brushed against the thin braid hanging just past one ear. The rest of his dark hair was cut short. It was the way Padawans wore their hair. And the robes, too…

Carth was suddenly conscious of the tension in his furrowed brow and his open mouth. He forced his forehead smooth and snapped his mouth shut. It wasn't like he hadn't known Dustil was a Padawan. He had, of course. But knowing it and seeing it were two different things. Just like running into Jordo and then actually facing Dustil on Korriban—alive in a stiff gray uniform with cold eyes—were completely different.

"I can't say I'm an expert on father-son reunions," Jolee suddenly cut into the silence, "but I'm guessing that one of you is supposed to talk at some point."

Dustil glanced at his Master, then laughed slightly nervously. "Hey, Dad."

"Dustil, I…" Carth shook his head, then reached his hand out to his son. Dustil took it, and Carth suddenly pulled him into a quick embrace. When he pulled away, the smile was firmly reaffixed to his face. "It's great to see you, son." He gestured toward his own uniform and hair, then back at Dustil. "I just didn't expect… you really look the part."

Jolee snorted. "Just like a recruitment poster for the Jedi, isn't he?" The old Jedi shook his head. "Now if we could just get him to act like it. Got some bad habits this one. For which I blame you entirely," he added, wagging a finger at Carth.

Carth laughed, and any feeling of awkwardness made way for the pride and joy he felt seeing his son. "I don't doubt it. I'm sure I would have made a lousy Jedi." He gestured behind him to the chairs in his makeshift office. "I'm not much of a host either. Come on in. Have a seat."

When Dustil was sitting—and Jolee had finally lowered himself into one of the soft chairs while complaining under his breath about no back support—Carth turned to his son, trying to dampen his smile so he didn't completely embarrass Dustil.

"Things are going well then? You're fitting in and… and getting to know people and all?"

Dustil's hands were fiddling with his robes, trying to arrange them so they didn't bunch up around his legs. "I… yeah. Things are good." He glanced at Jolee and narrowed his eyes. "Despite what senile Masters might try to tell you."

Jolee chuckled. "See what I mean?" The old man shook his head. "Aside from a disturbing lack of respect for his elders, the kid's doing well. He's got talent, this one. A real find." He turned to Carth. "Though for your sake, I'm half-glad the Order didn't find him when he was of age to be trained."

Carth tried to imagine Jedi arriving on Telos, taking his four- or six-year-old son—or whatever crazy age around which the Jedi usually swooped down. Tried to imagine a hole in his memories of Dustil's childhood: no Naming Days, no family dinners, no family vacations. Despite everything that happened afterward, despite the pain and hardship that he knew Dustil had lived through because of it, Carth was selfishly glad, too. He'd had little enough time with his son without the Jedi taking it.

He glanced at Dustil, whose head was bowed slightly as he gazed down at the hands still fidgeting in his lap. Carth cleared his throat. "Well, the Will of the Force and all that, right?"

Jolee chuckled again. "Right you are. Puts us right where it wants us usually." He turned back to Dustil. "You had some lessons to learn before you got here, and you're probably better for it, though I know it doesn't always seem that way."

Dustil didn't answer, and as Carth looked at his son's bent head, he wondered if that was one of the lessons Dustil struggled with—accepting the Will of the Force. Carth sure as hell had trouble accepting it. But when it came down to living, it was just a choice. He could live in the past or he could live in the present. For the first time in five years, it was starting to seem like an easier choice.

"But who needs to listen to an old Jedi Master flap his gums about the Force, eh?" Jolee said, cutting through the silence again with a wave of his hand. "I'm sure the kid has had more of that than he can stomach anyhow. Don't you two have something more interesting to discuss?" Carth couldn't be sure, but when Jolee turned to him, he thought he saw a glimmer of amusement in the old man's expression.

"I, uh…" Carth stammered, his eyes still glued to Dustil. In all the years since Morgana had died, he had never imagined talking to his son about his love life. He hadn't imagined there would be anything to talk about. It had crossed his mind once or twice over the past few weeks, but until right before they left to come to Coruscant, he hadn't been sure there was anything to talk about. He suddenly frowned. He still wasn't completely sure. He had been, but he hadn't seen or heard from her since she'd run off to the Temple, and he was starting to wonder if…

He suddenly realized that Dustil was looking at him. When he caught his eye, Dustil smiled. "How's the project going?"

"Good," Carth said enthusiastically. Maybe a little too enthusiastically. "It's going great, actually. You won't believe it. That is, uh…" Jolee's words about Dustil being gone floated back through his memory. "You know, whenever you get the chance to come back. When you're not so busy with training."

"I bet we can find an excuse to pass by that way," Jolee said, rubbing one hand over his gray-streaked goatee. "After all, the Council has already sent one Jedi to help out." When he met Carth's eyes that time, his expression was a definite smirk.

"Yeah, that would be… that would be great," Carth said, still looking at Jolee's smug grin out of the corner of his eye. He turned back to Dustil. "We started work just recently on… on a zone near home."

Dustil's lips lifted in a small smile. "Yeah, I know. I've been reading the Fleet updates."

"A lot of the guys from that area went nuts about it. Threw a big party." Carth smiled, shaking his head. "A lot of them are starting to bring their families up, too. You should see the kids running crazy through the wide open fields. Some of them weren't even born when…" He trailed off, firmly holding the image of the kids in his head to keep back other memories that always tried to seep in if he wasn't careful.

He met Dustil's gaze again and saw similar emotions flit through his son's dark eyes. "It's good, though. Really good."

Dustil let out a loud breath and smiled. "I can't wait to come out."

"I can probably convince the Council to make that happen," Jolee said. "Facing up to your past and whatnot."

Carth laughed. "Yeah, maybe you can detour by Kashyyyk on the way."

Jolee pointed a finger at him and started to retort, but he suddenly closed his mouth and leaned back in his seat, a devious smile spreading across his face. He stroked his goatee again thoughtfully. "Of course, we'd have to meet with the Jedi liaison to the project. Coordinate our efforts. I think Dustil and Bastila should work together on this, don't you, Carth?"

Carth glowered at the old man, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Dustil looking back and forth between them. "I'm missing something," his son said.

Jolee made a little go-ahead gesture, and Carth glared at him for another second. Then he turned to Dustil. Annoyance was pushed aside by a cold knot of fear. Dustil looked back at him, one eyebrow raised in puzzlement. Carth forced himself to take a deep breath; then after shooting another glare at Jolee, he jumped in.

"Dustil, Bastila and I…" He had to stop and force another breath through his suddenly dry throat. "We've… we've been working together the past few months. Uh, closely together."

Dustil's confused expression didn't change. "Uh-huh."

Carth sighed. "And it… it hasn't all been about work. We've been getting to know each other better, too, and we…" He gestured vaguely. Even if he wasn't nervous about telling Dustil the whole story, he wasn't really sure how to describe it in words anyway.

Dustil continued to stare at him for a long moment, then suddenly the raised eyebrow was joined by its fellow and both shot toward his hairline. His mouth dropped open a bit in what Carth realized was probably a pretty close approximation of his own face when Dustil had entered the room.

"You… you mean, you and she…" Dustil's gesture was just as vague as his father's had been.

Carth let out a loud breath. "Yeah." He frowned. "Sort of. It's… kind of complicated."

Dustil nodded slowly, then his head suddenly seemed to change direction and shake side to side instead. "I guess… I mean, I guess I should have thought that someday you'd…" He paused for a long moment, and when he met Carth's eyes again, he gave a small, lopsided smile. "That's… that's great, Dad."

"I know it's kind of out of nowhere," Carth said in a rush. "I definitely wasn't expecting it, but we were thrown together so much, and she's really…" He shook his head again. He'd known this would be hard, but he hadn't expected to completely forget his entire vocabulary. He met Dustil's eyes again. "But if this makes you uncomfortable, son, or if you… I don't know…" He could feel his face burning red, and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

Dustil's smile warmed by a few degrees. "No, Dad, really. It's… it's great. I was actually a little worried about you, being all alone on the station. I felt kind of guilty about leaving you there. I know it can't be easy, especially with the work around home and all."

Flashes of that first day touring the rubble made Carth's stomach and fists clench, but he willed the tension away. "It's not easy," he said quietly, looking down at the hands in his lap. "But having her there… she got me through a few rough spots." That was an understatement, but he felt like, on that score at least, he and Bastila were even.

When he looked up again, Dustil was gazing at Jolee with a shrewd expression. "You knew," he accused the old Jedi.

Jolee shrugged. "Only since her report to the Council."

The flush that had started to fade flared across Carth's cheeks again. "She… she mentioned it to the Council?"

Jolee shook his head, chuckling to himself again. "Not in so many words, but those of us who've been there can read a thing or two between the lines. Which means that most of the Council is completely oblivious."

"But not all," Carth said. For some reason, knowing that some of the Council knew made him feel like he and Bastila had been caught making out in the Fleet Academy speeder garage. He certainly felt closer to sixteen than to forty at the moment.

"I think Vandar and Zhar have a clue. They helped train her, after all." Jolee grinned. "And as I understand it, Vandar was the one who sent her to you in the first place."

"You mean he…" Carth trailed off, shaking his head. "I'd rather not think about Jedi Masters trying to steer my love life." He looked up at Jolee again. "Has she been meeting with the Council a lot the past few days? I was kind of hoping we could…"

"See the sights?" Jolee asked, eyebrows wagging suggestively. "Your girlfriend's been locked up with this or that Master since she got back. They all seem to want to know what she's been doing, how it's affected her, blah blah blah." The old Jedi's face turned serious. "Sometimes I think that Battle Meditation of hers is more curse than blessing. I doubt the girl's had a moment's peace to herself since she turned twelve years old."

Carth hands clenched into fists again, but he resisted the urge to jump to feet, march straight to the Temple, grab Bastila around the waist, and fling her over his shoulder. "I'll be glad when we get back to Telos," he muttered.

"I have a feeling she will, too, lad," Jolee said. "I haven't been on the Council so long that I don't see when they're meddling more than is good for them. Or good for anybody." He shook his head and sighed, then turned to Dustil. "But they've got their duties, and we've got ours. Time to let your old man get back to work, kid."

A sharp stab of disappointment spiked through Carth, but he swallowed it and stood along with the Jedi. He shook Jolee's hand, then pulled his son into another quick embrace.

"I'm proud of you, son," he said, trying to keep his voice casual.

Dustil pulled back and smiled. "Thanks, Dad. And you and Bastila… really, it's great." He looked his father up and down appraisingly. "I'm kind of impressed, actually. She's… well, she's Bastila Shan."

Carth laughed and clapped his son on the shoulder. "And I'm just your old man, huh? Emphasis on old?"

Dustil shrugged, still smiling. "Well, yeah. You'll have to tell me your secret sometime. Maybe it's genetic."

"Next time you're on Telos. I promise."

Jolee shook his head at them. "Come on, kid." He gestured toward the door and Dustil walked out ahead of him. Then Jolee turned to Carth and grinned. "Good luck to you, lad. You and your Jedi take care of each other."

Carth grinned back. "We will. Thanks, Jolee."

The old man winked at him, then walked out the door.


	10. Chapter 10

The Senate Committee for Planetary Restoration met in a small chamber in an out-of-the-way administrative building. Carth tried not to view that as a bad sign. He also tried very hard not to fidget with the datapad in his hands. It was already slightly slick with his sweat. He slipped one hand under the table and surreptitiously dried it on his pants. He half-glanced over his shoulder at the chamber gallery, which was filled with reporters for various HoloNet newsfeeds.

Jev sat next to him, and the senator's eyes followed Carth's gaze. "Kind of remind you of firaxa, don't they?" he murmured under his breath.

"Why are they here?" Carth whispered back. His stomach was tied in knots enough at the thought of just facing the committee; he really didn't need to think about being broadcast to billions of sents across thousands of systems. "The Senate obviously doesn't think planetary restoration is a big deal, so why do they?"

Jev smiled at him. "They don't care about planetary restoration. They care about the great Hero of the Star Forge."

Carth just grunted and settled back into his seat. He felt a momentary twinge of sympathy for Revan. If it was this bad for him after more than a year, he couldn't imagine what the media had been doing to Revan since they'd come back. No wonder she took off.

At that moment, the committee members filed into the room. Carth took his cue from Jev and stood as the committee took their seats behind the long table set on a dais at the front of the room. Five members—three humans, one Mon Calamari, and one Selkath. Someone must have told the Senate about their reputation for impartiality. Carth hoped the good will Revan had fostered on Manaan during the Star Forge mission would extend to him.

The committee chairwoman took her seat and gestured for everyone else to do the same. Sharp eyes immediately focused on Carth, and he forced his fidgeting hands still. She bore a striking resemblance to his history of the Republic teacher from when he was a kid.

"Admiral Onasi, we've reviewed your report thoroughly. The allegations you've brought here are very serious."

Carth cleared his throat and nervously leaned toward the voice amplifier in front of him. "Yes, Committee Chairwoman. I wouldn't have left Citadel Station if I didn't think it was serious."

She eyed him for a moment longer, then seemed to nod slightly. Carth let out a breath when she turned her attention to the Czerka representative, then followed her gaze. Jana Lorso had dark hair pulled back tightly and a grin that was way too slick and oily for Carth's taste. He distrusted her the second he laid eyes on her. For a while, at the start of the Star Forge mission, he had almost started to believe that Revan was right. That he was just paranoid. But the _Leviathan_ and everything that followed only served to confirm to him that if there was one thing he could trust in the galaxy, it was his own instincts.

"You've received a copy of the report as well, Ms. Lorso?"

Lorso leaned forward. "I did, Committee Chairwoman. It's been thoroughly reviewed by the Czerka legal and sentient resources departments, and frankly, we're all a little shocked that Admiral Onasi seeks to implicate the Czerka Corporation in what was obviously a breach of internal security."

"Internal– ?" Carth snapped. "Tirse Adana was there as a representative of your company!"

Lorso didn't even look at him. Instead she rose from her seat with a datapad in her hand. "Committee Chairwoman, may I approach the committee?"

The chairwoman nodded and gestured her forward impatiently.

"This datapad," Lorso said, handing it up to her, "clearly shows that Tirse Adana's employment with Czerka was terminated more than six years ago." She turned and faced the crowd of reporters triumphantly. "The _real _Czerka representative to Citadel Station, Ms. Neurian Shek, was robbed of her credentials before taking her assignment. A report was filed through all the proper channels."

"I never received any report," Carth retorted. "I'd say the planet where the representative was supposed to be stationed would be a proper channel, wouldn't you?"

Lorso shot him a glare for a brief second. "Filing a report with the host planet is not required by Republic law or any Czerka regulation." She slid back into her grin. "One would expect, however, that the administrator of the project would look into the backgrounds of those under his supervision."

Jev leaned toward the voice amplifier. "Committee Chairwoman, the Czerka restoration zone is an independent project and lies outside the admiral's jurisdiction as an administrator."

Lorso's grin widened. "That's not technically true, Committee Chairwoman. Under the standard operating agreement between Czerka Corporation and the Republic, our branch offices are subject to the laws governing the surrounding geopolitical area."

"And the project's charter requires me to verify consultants' affiliation with the sponsoring organization," Carth said testily. "Which I did."

"Yes," Lorso said. "But you didn't independently verify that the Czerka credentials were assigned to the person who actually appeared at the site."

"Her ID codes matched the ones _your_ company provided!" Carth fumed.

"Enough," the committee chairwoman interrupted. "Ms. Lorso, what exactly are you suggesting?"

Lorso turned back to the committee, her hands upraised in a shrug. "Committee Chairwoman, I don't wish to assign blame. I'm merely pointing out an oversight that allowed Tirse Adana's actions to be perpetrated. In a project this size, a small slip-up is bound to creep in now and again. Admiral Onasi certainly has numerous other duties that occupy a great deal of his attention." She smiled indulgently. "Not to mention distractions of a more romantic nature if rumor is to be believed."

Carth half-rose from his seat and opened his mouth to respond, but Jev put a hand on his arm to restrain him. "Committee Chairwoman," Jev said, "I fail to see how Admiral Onasi's personal life is in any way relevant to this proceeding."

Lorso shook her head. "I'm sorry, Committee Chairwoman. I suppose it is because Admiral Onasi is such a great hero of the Republic that I wish to attribute his oversight to an innocuous distraction as opposed to…" She shrugged. "Well, as opposed to anything else."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Carth snapped.

Lorso pulled a mock-pained expression. "Forgive me, Admiral. I'm sure I didn't mean anything by it."

"No," Carth clipped. "If you've got something to say, let's hear it here before it shows up as rumor in the tabloids."

The chairwoman sighed. "Yes, Ms. Lorso. If you have any grievance to air, please do so now and allow the admiral to defend himself."

Lorso sighed in a big show of reluctance. "Very well, Committee Chairwoman. I was only considering that there has been some speculation at the Czerka home office that Admiral Onasi failed to check on Tirse Adana's background due to some… arrangement of mutual benefit."

Carth frowned. "What possible benefit could I get from any kind of agreement with that…" He glanced at the reporters behind him and swallowed the word he'd been thinking. "… woman?"

Lorso cleared her throat and tried her best to look embarrassed and not smug. "The equipment that she had in her possession would fetch quite a high price on the open market, Committee Chairwoman."

Carth shot to his feet and this time, Jev was right beside him.

"You Czerka–" Carth started, but Jev outshouted him.

"Committee Chairwoman! This is ridiculous! These accusations are entirely groundless! Why would Admiral Onasi come to Coruscant… why would he _ask_ for this committee hearing if he were involved in any sort of wrongdoing?"

The chairwoman banged her gavel. "Gentlemen, please resume your seats." Jev sat, pulling Carth down beside him, though Carth continued to glare at Lorso and clench his fists. The chairwoman turned to the Czerka representative. "Ms. Lorso, I assume you have no proof to support these accusations?"

"Of course not, Committee Chairwoman. It is speculation only, as I said. _I_ for one don't believe it for a second." She smiled sweetly at Carth, who briefly tried to picture what she would look like without any teeth.

"Of course not," the chairwoman said dryly. "Clerk, please strike Ms. Lorso's _speculation_ from the record. After all, Admiral Onasi's actions are not the ones under discussion here today." She shook her head and steepled her fingers beneath her chin. "And I think I've heard just about enough. The committee will adjourn for a short recess."

Carth leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, still seething. Jev turned to him, shaking his head. "Forget it, Carth. No one believes a word of it."

"I want them off Telos," Carth bit out through clenched teeth.

Jev shrugged. "So do I. But I wouldn't hold your breath." He glanced toward Lorso. "You wouldn't believe the kind of clout Czerka has in the Senate," he murmured in a tone pitched low enough that only Carth would hear.

"It's not right, Jev."

"I know it. But you've got to keep a level head. If you make too much noise, you'll be off the project before you can blink. And we need you there, Carth. Telos needs you there."

Carth shook his head but didn't answer. Jev was right. He knew he was right. That didn't make swallowing Czerka's banthashit any easier, and the bright lights of the news holos didn't help. Maybe Lorso's wild accusations had been stricken from the official record, but every wavelength on the HoloNet would broadcast what she'd said. Carth's hands clenched into fists, but he resisted the urge to glare at Lorso again. The reporters had enough drama for the vids, and Carth losing his cool would reflect badly on the project. Getting Senate backing—_keeping ­_Senate backing—was hard enough. Bad publicity from a project administrator would be the end of the Telos Restoration Project. And maybe the end of restoration of dozens of other planets. Nothing less could have kept Carth from telling Jana Lorso exactly where she could shove her _speculation_. Possibly with the benefit of a blaster. Set on stun.

Lorso's words echoed through his mind again. Maybe set on stun.

A tense silence filled the room, broken only by the chatter of the reporters and Jev tapping one finger against the table. Carth glanced over at the other table. The Czerka reps were talking quietly, laughing and smiling. The sight gave Carth a sick feeling in his stomach. They knew the Senate would do nothing. This was exactly why he avoided politics; he was better off on the bridge of a ship. He should have sent Bastila. Despite the situation, he half-grinned at the thought of the Jedi in full ice princess mode staring down the Czerka rep.

_Next time_.

The Senate guard stationed at the committee room entrance banged his staff on the floor three times.

"That was quick," Carth muttered as he and Jev rose.

Jev just shrugged slightly. "That's clout."

The committee chairwoman resumed her seat in the center of the committee table and gestured for the rest of the room to sit. She folded her hands on the desk and looked down at the two disputing parties. She glanced at the Czerka rep, and her jaw seemed to tense slightly. Then she met Carth's gaze. For a second, he thought he saw a sympathetic look, but then she turned away.

"This committee finds the actions of Tirse Adana absolutely unconscionable. Extortion, piracy, kidnapping… these are serious crimes against the Republic, and she will be remanded into legal custody pending an investigation."

She glanced at Carth again and gave a small sigh. "However, since Jana Lorso has provided ample evidence that Adana's connection to the Czerka corporation was severed some time ago, this body has no choice but to exonerate that corporation from any wrongdoing."

If Carth clenched his jaw any tighter, his teeth were going to explode.

"Therefore, Czerka will continue its work on Telos toward the creation of a privately funded restoration zone in accordance with Senate Legislative Order 2116. The approved Czerka representative…" The chairwoman glanced down at the datapad on the table. "… Neurian Shek will resume control of the project."

"Actually, Committee Chairwoman," Lorso cut in smoothly, "Ms. Shek has been reassigned."

"Of course she has," Carth muttered.

"Convenient of her to disappear, eh?" Jev agreed under his breath. "Can you say 'plausible deniability'?"

Jana Lorso glanced at them, then turned to the gaggle of reporters gathered to the side of the room. "I'm happy to report that I will be personally assuming the role as head liaison to the Telos Restoration Project."

Carth groaned under his breath. Jev glanced over at him with a sympathetic smile. "You may be wishing for Tirse Adana's company."

The committee chairwoman banged her gavel, and the committee rose and began to file out of the room. Jana Lorso had risen from her seat and was walking toward Carth, the lights from the holos following her every step. Jev nudged Carth, and Carth rose reluctantly to his feet.

"For the project, Carth," Jev muttered.

Carth took a deep breath, then stepped around the table. Lorso extended her hand, and Carth grasped it in his own. He might have squeezed a little harder than necessary because her eyes widened. But then she grinned at him.

"I look forward to working with you, Admiral, and toward assuring a profitable partnership between Czerka Corporation and the Republic's restoration project."

"We can always use another pair of hands, Ms. Lorso. There's plenty to do for anyone looking for an honest day's work." He resisted the urge to emphasize the _honest_.

She smiled smoothly. "Of course. I look forward to getting my hands dirty."

He gritted his teeth around a smile. "I'm sure you do."

She pulled her hand away and turned to smile brightly at the reporters. They all swarmed to her immediately, for which Carth was grateful. Even as she started to answer their questions, their eyes darted to him, and he knew if he gave any indication, they'd flock to him just as fast. He stared fixedly down at the table as he gathered his datapad, then turned to the nearest exit. He heard Jev hurrying behind him.

They passed through the chamber doors and out into the corridor. "It wouldn't kill you to give an interview or two, you know," Jev grumbled.

"Says you," Carth retorted. He sighed as they fell in with the crowds milling through the hallways of the administration building. "I can't wait to get back to Telos."

Jev smiled. "I've half a mind to hop that shuttle with you." Then he shook his head. "But I guess somebody's got to keep the project's credits rolling in."

Carth snorted. "When did they start rolling? Last time I checked they were still trickling."

"Hey, I'm a senator, not a Jedi. I can't just wave my hand and make the committee expand our budget." He looked at Carth and rubbed a hand over his chin. "Now if only I knew someone who had close ties to a Jedi."

Carth shook his head. "Nice try, Jev. But you're just going to have to keep actually doing your job." They arrived at the main entrance, and Carth stepped into the security checkpoint to reclaim his blasters. Strapping them to his waist instantly made him feel better.

When he exited the security office, Jev was waiting. Carth extended his hand. "Thanks for your help, Jev. I know you did all you could."

Jev took his hand. "We did as well as we were going to. It says a lot that you even got this hearing, Carth. For anyone else, they would have brushed this under the rug. Here's hoping this keeps 'em honest, huh?"

"Here's hoping." Carth sighed, then shook his head. If working with Czerka was the price he had to pay to get Telos back, then he'd pay it. But he'd be damned if he'd let them cheat him into paying more.

"Good luck, Carth. See you around the station."

"Anytime, Jev. And thanks again."

Jev nodded, put his hands in his pockets, and headed off back into the thick of the crowd. Carth turned and walked through the main doors and out into the open air. He took a deep breath, feeling like he'd just landed planetside after a long tour in space. He hustled down the steps to the street and headed toward one of the line of hovertaxis waiting at the bottom. After he directed the driver to his hotel, he sat back and let his head rest against the seat's cushions.

He had just started to relax slightly when he noticed the faint beeping coming from his pocket. He pulled out his commlink, then smiled as the message indicator blinked at him. It had to be her. About time, too. After the day he'd had, actually getting to spend some time alone with Bastila was about the only thing that could salvage it. He pressed the button that triggered the tiny holo projector.

And frowned in surprise and disappointment when an image of Master Vandar appeared.

"Admiral Onasi," it said in a tinny voice, "I have a matter of some urgency to discuss with you." There was a brief pause, and Carth's stomach did a quick somersault. Dustil was the only reason he could think of for a Jedi Master to contact him. But if it was Dustil, wouldn't it be Jolee who commed him?

"It relates to the restoration project," the image continued. Carth let out the breath he'd been holding. "I think it best if we discuss the matter in person. Please join me at the Jedi Temple at your earliest convenience."

The message cut out, and Carth frowned. "Now what?" he muttered.

"What was that?" the driver called over his shoulder.

"Nothing," Carth said. No time like the present. He sighed. "I need to make a different stop. Can you drop me at the Jedi Temple?"

The driver nodded and signaled to enter a different traffic stream. Carth sat back again, but this time the tension stubbornly refused to leave his shoulders.


	11. Chapter 11

The cavernous halls of the Jedi Temple swallowed small sounds like boots hitting a tile floor. Even the numerous Jedi chatting and conversing in pairs and clusters made barely any noise. It reminded Carth of zero-grav training, strapped into an environment suit with only the sound of his own breathing in the ventilators to fill the silence.

The brown-robed Padawan who'd been sent to meet him at the main entrance walked quickly, her hands folded in her robes and her eyes glued to the floor. He'd tried to make polite small talk, but the girl had looked at him with wide eyes and stammered back squeaked responses. He'd let her lapse into silence after a time, a state with which she was obviously much more comfortable. He wondered how she'd do as a Jedi. She certainly wasn't like any of the Jedi he knew. He found himself grinning slightly. He supposed Bastila and Jolee and Revan didn't exactly fall into the mold of typical Jedi.

The girl stopped in front of a simple door and pressed the panel. The door slid back, revealing a space that was no more remarkable that a typical office at Fleet headquarters—a desk with a console, shelves with datapads and other assorted holocrons, nothing out of the ordinary that he could see. Carth wasn't sure why he was surprised.

The only remarkable thing in the room was the diminutive form that floated on a hoverchair behind the desk. Master Vandar nodded his thanks to the Padawan girl, who bowed deeply in response and then scurried out, leaving Carth alone with the Jedi Master.

"Admiral," he intoned in his distinctive voice, "thank you for coming."

"How can I help you, Master Vandar?" Carth replied. "Your message didn't indicate what you wanted."

The Jedi gazed back at him for a moment, and the tips of his long, pointed ears seemed to droop slightly. "I felt it appropriate to inform you in person of the change in the Jedi involvement on the restoration project."

A spike of icy apprehension stabbed Carth in the gut. "I… I'm not sure I understand."

Master Vandar's expression was serene, but Carth thought he saw something regretful in his eyes. "Bastila Shan will not be returning with you to Telos. A new Jedi will be assigned to continue her work on the project."

The spike of ice turned to a solid block. "I… but you can't…" Ice melted under the heat of sudden anger, and his finger stabbed toward the desk. "The Council can't just take her off the project! She's worked too hard! She doesn't deserve that!"

Carth shook his head. "If this is about her and me, then that's… that's… it's not right," he persisted stubbornly. "The Council can't just mess around in people's lives like that. What's between Bastila and me is between us. The Council can keep their noses out of it. All they should care about is the work she's been doing." He met Master Vandar's gaze. "She's become essential to the project. And I say that objectively as the Fleet administrator."

Master Vandar's sad expression had not changed. "Admiral, I believe you misunderstand me." He sighed quietly. "The Council has not removed Knight Shan from the project. She herself has asked to be reassigned."

The floor dropped out from beneath Carth. Hot anger was doused by a sudden empty feeling, like everything inside his body had been replaced by a cold wind in a hollow shell. "I… I don't…" He shook his head. "Why?"

"She suggested that personal feelings were interfering with her work there," Master Vandar said gently. "Not just her work on the project but also her own attempts to refocus and rededicate herself to the Order."

Carth knew that the words the Master was speaking were plain Basic, but they didn't seem to make sense regardless. "But she… before we left Telos, she didn't…" He shook his head stubbornly. "That doesn't make any sense. We were… _she_ was doing fine. Better, even. She said so," he added emphatically, as if to remind himself of the truth of his own words.

Master Vandar looked at him with sympathy. "There are those of us on the Council who agree that Knight Shan was in fact improving in achieving a sense of balance in the Force." He sighed again, wearily. "But I'm afraid there were others who were all too willing to accede to her request."

"Because of me," Carth muttered.

The Master nodded. "Though young Bastila did not speak of what transpired between you, it was clear to all of the Council that her feelings changed when she spoke of you. She is not so experienced as to hide the effects that such feelings have upon her." Master Vandar smiled slightly, ruefully. "Not all of us believe that such effects are to the detriment of a young Jedi's development. In fact, several of us agree that they may be beneficial." He shook his head sadly. "Especially to one of Knight Shan's… background and talents. There are those of us who recognize the role that our restrictions on her played in her fall."

"Then…" Carth flailed, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists like he could pull the right words from the air. "Then… how can you let her just…?"

"Though some of us feel that continuing with her assignment would be best, others on the Council adhere more strictly to the traditional tenets of our Order, and thus discourage the formation of emotional attachments." The Master spread his small hands in a gesture of explanation. "And when the Knight herself is so adamant…"

"Where is she?" Carth asked.

Master Vandar shook his head sadly again. "I can't say, Admiral."

"Can't or won't?" Carth took a breath to dull the sharp edge that had crept into his voice. "Master Vandar, I'm not going to… well, I _am_ going to confront her, but I won't… I won't upset her or… or force her to do anything she doesn't want to do. I just…" He sighed. "If this is her decision, I want to hear it from her."

Master Vandar met his gaze for a long moment. "When young Knights are troubled, they often seek places of solitude," he said finally. "Some walk in the Meditation Gardens or seek refuge in the Room of a Thousand Fountains." He turned his gaze to the bright light streaming in through the window. "Others," he continued, his eyes still turned to the sunshine, "find quieter, more private places. There is a small garden beyond the northwest corner of the main Temple that is just such a place."

Carth nodded, though the Jedi was still turned to the window. "Thank you, Master Vandar."

The small Jedi Master turned back to him then, his expression grave. "May the Force be with you, Admiral."

The garden was small only by the standards of the Jedi Temple. It was easily the size of the beach on Telos. Carth tried not to extend the comparison beyond that.

Several figures strolled along the gravel paths. They turned to watch him approach at the sound of quick, angry bootsteps crunching the stones. Or since they were Jedi, maybe they could feel how pissed off he was. Maybe he was ruining the quiet, meditative atmosphere. For the short amount of time he planned to be there, they could deal.

She was kneeling beside a small fountain, her back toward him. He didn't need Jedi senses to know it was her, even with her hood drawn up. As he moved closer, he kept expecting her to turn at any moment, but then he found himself standing behind her, looking down on her bowed head and the hands folded in her lap. He cleared his throat, and one robed shoulder twitched. It was the only hint of surprise. After a momentary pause, she rose gracefully and turned to face him, though her eyes remained fixed on the lush green grass beneath their feet.

"I thought you couldn't sneak up on a good Jedi," he said. He tried to keep his voice light, but a little twist of bitter anger bled into his words anyway.

Bastila looked away. "Perhaps I am not as good a Jedi as I had believed."

"And staying here will make you a good Jedi. Is that it?" Carth's hands clenched into fists. He hadn't meant for it to come out all at once like that. But maybe it was just as well. Maybe it was time they stopped dancing around it. Whatever it was.

She seemed to have decided the same thing because she finally met his gaze. "It will make me a better Jedi. That is all that matters."

Splintery pain jabbed his gut. "All that matters, huh? So I guess what I want… what you want… doesn't mean a damn thing. If you ever wanted it at all."

There were so many things floating up behind her eyes. Just once he wanted their roles to be reversed—for him to be the one with the Force. Just once he wanted to feel what she was feeling, to know things the way she knew them, to read her the way she read him. It wasn't fair.

"My commitment is to the Order," was all she said. "My duty is here."

Amazing how one little word could turn a hard knot to a block of ice. "No," he said flatly, pointing a finger at her. "No way. You don't get to lecture _me_ about duty. I lost _everything_ while I did my duty."

Her eyes slid to the grass again. "You wanted to save the Republic," she said quietly. She looked back at him. "Do you find it so difficult to believe that I wish the same thing?"

"Save the Republic?" he exploded. "From _what_?"

Her lips tightened, and he had the feeling that if there were having any other conversation, she would have rolled her eyes. "Do you truly believe that Revan defeating Malak has made the Republic safe? That there is no further threat to be countered?" She shook her head. "Revan herself did not believe that. And now she is gone and there is no one else who can…" She trailed off with a vague little gesture and both hands dropped to her sides.

"No one else who can save the Republic," Carth finished. He just stared at her for a moment, his head shaking slightly. "They've got you again, haven't they?" he said finally. "One hundred percent." His jaw clenched. "I should have known."

She frowned at him. "Known what?" she asked, a little snap creeping into her voice.

"I should have known that bringing you here was a mistake. That the second they got you back in that Council room, you'd fall for the party line again, hook, line, and sinker."

She stiffened. "This was not the Council's decision, Carth. It was mine."

He snorted. "Right. I'm sure they didn't try to talk you out of coming back with me. Or hell, ever talking to me again."

A pale pink flush rose on her cheeks, and he felt a petty satisfaction at hitting the mark. Then he saw her jaw clench and wondered if maybe he'd gone too far. But what did it matter? He'd probably never see her again. That thought just made him feel sick.

"I see," Bastila said coldly. "So any woman who does not automatically fall at the feet of the dashing Carth Onasi must be brainwashed or otherwise incapable of logical thought."

That did it. The finger was pointing at her again. "Listen, sister, this isn't about my ego. It's about yours. It's about you buying all the garbage they've been shoveling on you your whole life about being the last hope of the Republic."

"You would prefer I became a dutiful admiral's wife?" she snapped. "That I abandon my gifts and breed a new generation of Telosian schoolchildren?"

"I never asked you to abandon anything!" he yelled. A few of the other Jedi in the garden turned toward them then. His jaw clenched again, and he lowered his voice. "And I sure as hell never said anything about marriage."

She blushed again, but her shoulders straightened and her chin rose like a Jedi facing off against an enemy. Which he guessed she was. "If we are agreed that there would be no future for any kind of relationship between us, then I fail to see why you should care whether I return to Telos or not."

Carth cursed under his breath. She was gone. She was still standing in front of him, but she might as well have vanished as soon as he'd said the words. Shot in the foot with his own blaster.

He tried anyway, knowing it would be useless. "Bastila, come on. You… you know I didn't mean it like that. I just meant…"

"No, Carth," she said. "You're quite right." He didn't know if the little note of sadness was in her tone or just in his imagination. "Nothing was… settled. Or done. There is no need for regret on either side."

"Oh, yeah?" he said quietly. "'Cause right now I'm feeling a hell of a lot of regret."

Her expression softened, and she met his eyes again. "A parting was inevitable, Carth. Perhaps you find my reasoning unsound or… or arrogant, but I do have a duty to the Order."

"I know that. Of course you…" He shook his head in defeat. It was over, and they both knew it.

"I never would have asked you to turn away from the Order," he said sadly as the full force of his regrets hit him. He'd let his past hold him back. Hold them both back. And now it was too late.

She sighed. "Wouldn't you? There are those among the Council who believe you already have."

"Well, Vandar and Jolee say different." Even to him it sounded petulant.

She smiled slightly and arched an eyebrow. "So you _would_ have me listen to the Council? But only to those who agree with your point of view?"

"That… that's not what I…" He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. He was pretty sure that wasn't what he'd meant, but damned if he could figure out how to explain the difference.

"I know." She sighed again, a weightless, empty sound. "And I know you would never have asked me to choose between you and the Order. But a choice would have come nevertheless."

He told himself that it wasn't that she didn't choose him that stung so much. "Why?" he asked, but there wasn't much force behind the question.

She frowned. "Because… because the Order needs me, Carth. Revan is gone; we are depleted by war and desertion… Surely you do not believe there are no other enemies in the galaxy for the Jedi to face."

"No," he sighed. "No, of course not. And I know how important your Battle Meditation is. I just meant… why do you have to make a choice?"

Her frown deepened. "I… I would be… distracted," she said. "How could I commit fully to my duty?"

And somewhere in the hesitant pauses between the words he found a little burst of hope. "Why wouldn't you be able to? Having a relationship with me wouldn't make you any less of a Jedi, Bastila. You didn't come to Telos for me, did you?"

"No, of course not," she said, still frowning.

"Right." He nodded. "And if not for…" He gestured vaguely between them. "You would have come back with me, right?"

"Well, yes."

He nodded again. "Was spending time with me interfering with your work there?"

She smiled a little sadly. "If anything, I would say my work interfered with my spending time with you."

"Exactly," he said, feeling the burst of hope build little by little. "Bastila, you're not going to shirk your duty for me. Ever." He half-smiled. "It's… it's one of the things I like about you." Her cheeks flushed again, and her eyes dropped to his chest. "And I'll never ask you to," he said softly.

"Carth, you… you don't understand. A Jedi… must hold the deepest commitment…"

"And one commitment cancels out the possibility of any others?" He shook his head stubbornly. "I don't believe that, Bastila. Obviously," he added, a little ruefully.

She looked up at him then, her eyes again unreadable. "And would you do it again?" she asked quietly. "Would you still hold as tightly to your duty knowing what it would cost you?"

He just stared at her for a long moment, searching for an answer to the question he'd asked himself over and over again for five years. If he could go back, if he could change what he'd done, if the memory wasn't just a memory, would he do it all again? Would he fight for the Republic, fight for the ideals that he had cherished, that he _still_ cherished? Or would he give up the battles he'd helped win, the lives he'd helped save, for the one life he'd loved above anything else?

"I… I don't know," he said finally.

She gazed at him seriously. "Neither do I," she said. "I have been afraid to ask myself that question." She shook her head. "And fear is dangerous in a Jedi. Especially to one as powerful as I."

"So that's it?" Carth asked. "You're afraid of… of yourself? Still?" He could feel her slipping away from him again, and his hope was slipping right along with her. Almost in desperation, he stepped toward her, his hands going to her shoulders. He bent his head, and his lips nearly grazed her forehead. "How do I convince you that you have nothing to be afraid of?" he murmured.

"I…" she breathed. Then she sighed, soft and low. "I don't think you can." Her face lifted so she could meet his eyes again. "If anyone could have…"

She trailed off, but the silence only lasted a moment before she shook her head slightly.

"I am sorry, Carth."

And then she had pulled out of his arms and stepped out of reach.

"Please express my regrets to Chodo and the other Ithorians as well," she said in a voice that could only be described as polite. She opened her mouth, paused. "May the Force be with you," she said finally.

She waited a moment for a response. He tried to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat, but then she turned and walked away. He didn't know what he would have said anyway. The Force hadn't been with him in five years.


	12. Chapter 12

Carth leaned back in his chair, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. He'd been staring at the comm console for the past three or four hours, ever since he got back to his apartment after first shift ended. He'd decided to catch up on his correspondence the past few days. It wasn't a very good distraction, but it was better than sitting and listening to the silence of the empty apartment next to his.

He leaned forward again and tried to focus on the open message—from the requisition manager about the need for another shuttle to accommodate the extra work crew—and shook his head. It was no good. The message itself was straightforward enough, but every time Carth tried to wrap his brain around the points the man raised—the budgetary implications, receiving bids from shuttle manufacturers, and a hundred other details that complicated what should have been a simple decision—he just found his mind wandering. He sighed and stabbed the key that would close the message.

As the console filtered back to the main comm screen, his eye snagged on the message draft listed in one corner. After a moment's hesitation, he pressed the key and the message filled the screen. His hands hovered over the console, but just like the last three times he'd tried to finish it, he couldn't manage to bring his fingers down to the keys. His eyes just kept washing over the last line he'd written.

"… _requesting immediate transfer to active duty post_…"

Dodonna would want to know why of course, and he'd served under her long enough to know that she'd pester him until she got a satisfactory answer. There were several he could choose from. Czerka, for one. Just the thought of Jana Lorso's slimy grin as she walked the corridors, _his_corridors, turned his stomach. He was tired of the politics and the underhanded dealings. He was tired of not getting support from the Senate. He was tired of fighting battles with bureaucrats he'd never meet about budget actions he didn't really care about.

He was just tired. If there was such a thing as non-battle fatigue, he had it. He'd felt the first symptoms of it after Dustil left, but it had retreated with Bastila's arrival. He'd felt reenergized, renewed with purpose; having someone to share your purpose with did that. Now he was back to feeling like he was holding an indefensible line all by himself, a line he wasn't even sure he wanted to defend anymore.

There wasn't any future on Telos. Not for him.

That part he'd leave out of his message to Dodonna. He didn't think she was used to her subordinates whining about planets with too many memories and too many regrets. Or maybe she was. He wasn't the only soldier who'd lost everything they'd thought they were fighting for.

Carth shook his head and sighed again. Then he took a deep breath. He was lowering his hands to the keyboard by sheer force of will when a series of beeps emanated from the console. Telling himself that he was in no way relieved by the interruption, he flipped over to the active comm channel. The young lieutenant on duty in the shuttle bay appeared on the screen.

"Sir, you asked to be notified when the shuttle from Coruscant arrived," he reported after a brisk salute.

"Right," Carth sighed. He hadn't forgotten exactly, but he'd been trying not to dwell on it either. "I'll be right down."

The lieutenant saluted again, and the comm reverted to the endless list of messages Carth still had to respond to. Carth frowned at the screen, then powered the console down. He stood, turning his head from side to side to work out the kinks in his neck. He really wasn't built for a desk job. He rolled his shoulders to try and release some of the tension there, then stifled another sigh and grabbed his uniform jacket from the back of the chair as he headed toward the door.

Workers from the second shift just off duty filled the corridors of the station with a pleasant buzz. Tomorrow was an off day, and they were gathering in twos and threes to head to the cantina or for dinner in someone's apartment. Several called out cheerful greetings to Carth as he passed. These he acknowledged with a wave and a smile. A few times he thought he caught worried frowns and shakes of the head, which was usually followed by the frowner leaning into his or her group for a whispered conversation. These made him clench his teeth.

Word had spread quickly that Bastila hadn't returned with him from Coruscant. At first no one seemed to think much of it, but as the days passed, he knew the rumors were heating up again. After tonight, a hundred different stories of the tumultuous end of their love affair would rip through the corridors. He really didn't want to hear any of the sordid fictional details.

The truth had been painful enough.

When he boarded the transport that headed to the shuttle bay, several of the passengers smiled at him. A trio of women about his own age stood in front of him, holding onto the handstraps that hung from the ceiling. The one in the back noticed him and nudged her friends. The woman in front of her craned her head around to meet his eye.

"Meeting someone at the shuttle bay, Admiral?" she asked brightly.

"Yes." The reply came out shorter than he intended, but she nodded her head and grinned anyway.

"We'll all be glad to have our Jedi back on the station, won't we?" she said conspiratorially to her friends. They laughed good-naturedly and nodded.

Carth could think of no response so he just offered a tight smile. Everyone would know the truth soon enough, and Tirse Adana would finally get what she'd wanted. He would look like a complete and utter fool. Not just a middle-aged admiral besotted with a beautiful young Jedi, but a middle-aged admiral _dumped_ by a beautiful young Jedi. He knew most of the workers would be kind about it. But he'd had about all he could take of well-meaning sympathy. He resolved at that moment that he would immediately finish his message to Dodonna as soon as he returned to his apartment.

When they reached the bay and the doors opened, Carth exited slowly, absently running a hand down the front of his jacket to smooth it. It was more habit than anything else. When he'd last met a shuttle at this bay, he'd taken extra care to make sure his uniform was regulation down to the last fastener. Now he found himself struggling to care. Let the new Jedi think whatever he or she wanted. If Carth had his way, he'd be reassigned before it made much difference.

He tried hard not to think about the last time he'd departed from this shuttle bay. When there'd been a Jedi beside him.

The announcement for the shuttle was made, and the bay doors opened. A few new workers stepped out uncertainly, looking around and taking stock of their new home for the first time. Exclamations of joy greeted some of the other passengers as workers ran forward to meet spouses and children. One of the trio of women from the shuttle stepped up and embraced a lanky teenage boy. The boy's face flushed red and he rolled his eyes, but Carth noticed he also put an arm around his mother's shoulders.

Throughout the shuttle bay, pairs and groups of people were greeting each other. A red-haired man grinned as he departed the shuttle. Two little boys shot out from behind the man's legs and bolted headlong for a blonde woman, who nearly toppled over when they collided with her legs. She bent down and wrapped one arm around each small waist, kissing cheeks and smoothing hair. An older woman arrived in the bay and waved as she spotted a pair of men, one older, one younger. The older man took her hand as the younger one took her bag. A worker in uniform greeted a group of happily chatting young people—the new med recruits. They all looked around curiously as they caught their first glimpse of their new posting.

Carth let out a long breath as he realized new recruits meant a meet-and-greet with the project's Fleet administrator. Normally he liked nothing better than encouraging the young men and women who generously donated their time to help out the station, but he was finding it hard to remember why they should be so excited to be here.

His eyes slid back to the shuttle doors just as a robed figure emerged. She—the build under the robe seemed to suggest it was a woman—paused uncertainly in the doorway, then stepped forward. Several of the workers, old and new, turned to watch her walk forward. Some of the older workers smiled and glanced in his direction, though he knew as soon as the Jedi's hood dropped, the smiles would change to disappointed, sad-eyed looks. But there wasn't anything else to do. Carth took a deep breath and shifted his weight to step forward.

And nearly tripped over his own feet as a slim hand pushed back the hood to reveal brown hair and a pair of brilliant blue eyes gazing back at him.

Carth stopped dead in his tracks, vaguely aware on some level that his mouth had fallen open. Bastila's cheeks flushed pink as her eyes dropped to his chest, but she continued to move gracefully toward him. He was still staring, dumbstruck, when she stopped in front of him.

She lifted her eyes and cleared her throat. "Hello, Carth."

The sound of her voice brought him back to himself, and he snapped his jaw shut and shook his head slightly. Fresh wounds that hadn't had nearly enough time to scab over stabbed at him all over again, and his teeth clenched. "I thought the Council was sending a new Jedi."

Her eyes darted to the small groups of passengers lingering in the shuttle bay. "I… requested to be assigned back to the project."

"Why?" he clipped.

Blue eyes came back to his, but he couldn't read the expression there. "Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere."

Hurt feelings and hurt pride made him petty. He decided to give in wholly to the impulse by crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture of implacability. "I think I want to talk about it here."

Her eyes went slightly frosty and he saw her jaw tighten as well, but then she took a deep breath. "I felt I had unfinished business here," she said evenly.

"Unfinished business," he repeated coolly. "So… what? Is this some sort of Jedi test?"

She shook her head, maybe a little sadly. "No, Carth. It's not a test."

"Then what is it?"

She looked up at him, and this time he could plainly read the fear and hope in her eyes. "It is me attempting to correct a terrible mistake," she murmured.

Despite a tiny flicker of hope in his own chest, the wounds kept his arms over his chest and his tone even. "What mistake was that?"

The small wince was evident only in a slight tightening at the corners of her eyes. "I hurt a dear friend," she said quietly. "He offered me something precious, and I turned away from it out of fear."

His arms uncrossed, and his hands fell to his sides. "And now?"

She gazed up at him serenely. "Now I am no longer afraid."

He shook his head. "Just like that, huh?"

"No, not…" She sighed. "Carth… the night you left Coruscant, I had the vision again."

And despite everything, the hands at his sides still curled into fists and he still found himself thinking he should have been there. Or that she should have been _here_.

Her eyes glanced down at his fists, and she shook her head slightly. Then her eyes came up to his again. "It was different, Carth."

His eyes narrowed. "Different?"

She wrapped her arms around herself. "I… when you came to us on the Star Forge… I wouldn't let Revan kill you."

He frowned in confusion, surprise overwhelming his hurt feelings. "That's… that's…" He shook his head again. "I don't know what that is. What does that mean?"

She smiled up at him slightly. "I didn't know. I went to speak with Jolee, and when the Council met in morning session…"

"Wait," he interrupted, raising one eyebrow. "You woke Jolee up to talk about this?"

A faint blush colored her cheeks. "I felt it was important."

The mental image of her outside Jolee's door in the middle of the night was enough of a salve to sooth the worst sting of his hurt. "That was pretty brave of you. What did the Council say?"

Her eyes dropped down to his chest again. "Jolee and Master Vandar and Master Zhar suggested that perhaps my work here was not finished. That my feelings were… unresolved." She looked up at him. "That by returning here, I might find some answer to my own doubt." The blush on her cheeks darkened. "That perhaps the faith of another could help me restore my faith in myself."

Carth swallowed, the hope in his chest suddenly flaring to much more than a flicker. "And what do you think?"

"I think they're correct." Then she shook her head, avoiding his eyes again. "Carth, you have already given me so much. I don't ask for anything more."

He opened his mouth to respond, then realized he had nothing to say. One hand smoothed back her hair while the other went to her waist and gently pulled her toward him. He lowered his lips to hers and felt a warm shiver race up his spine as one of her hands floated up to rest against his cheek. Before long, though, she pulled back slightly.

He looked down at her with a worried frown, but her eyes slipped past him to the other passengers still openly watching them. She cleared her throat. "We seem to have an audience," she murmured.

His frown dissolved in a laugh. "Don't worry. They think we've been together for months, remember?"

She smiled ruefully. "I suppose that is true." Her eyes met his again, and a soft joy suffused them. "I regret now that we worked so hard to prove them wrong."

He laughed again, a loose, easy laugh full of his own joy. "We'll just have to find a way to make up for lost time." He bent down and kissed her again, more surely. Distantly he heard an amused voice say, "Residential module's that way, Admiral," and several answering chuckles, and he broke the kiss with a good-natured laugh.

He leaned his forehead against Bastila's for a moment, just basking. When he pulled away, she gazed up at him with a bright smile.

"Remind me later that I have a message to Dodonna to erase," he said.

She frowned slightly in puzzlement, but he just shook his head and wrapped his arm more firmly around her waist. He finally tore his gaze away from her to face the small crowd of passengers around them. One of the women from the shuttle was smiling at him. Her eyes shifted to Bastila and then back again.

"Looks like everything's back to normal, eh, Admiral?" she said with a grin.

Carth grinned back. "Better than normal," he replied. He looked down into shining blue eyes, seeing a reflection there of the same buoyant feeling that threatened to carry him away. It stirred something inside him that hadn't been touched in a long, long time.

It wasn't exactly the same. The happiness of the battle-scarred admiral didn't feel like that of the fresh-faced lieutenant; it was just as warm, but softer, calmer. It wasn't about going back. It wasn't about feeling young again or feeling restored to his old self.

Standing beside Bastila, he felt something else entirely.

His future.


End file.
